


Peppermint

by edamametoy2



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Death Eaters, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gryffindor, Half-bloods (Harry Potter), Hufflepuff, Mudblood, Muggle-born, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Ravenclaw, Second War with Voldemort, Slow Burn, Slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 152,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29362281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edamametoy2/pseuds/edamametoy2
Summary: Pepper Atkinson never really thought too much about her life. But when she found out that she was a witch, her whole world was turned upside down. Soon, she was living in a world that had been here all along, a world that she loved. She wasn't prepared for what would come.More specifically, who would come.A slow-burn enemies to lovers Draco Malfoy story.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	1. Playlist

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: I don’t own any of the Harry Potter characters. But I do own my original characters and parts of the plot. I used both parts of the books and movies for the story. This is also on Wattpad under @edamametoy2

here's the official playlist! each chapter has a lyric at the beginning, and each lyric belongs to a song that correlates with said chapter. this will be updated with every chapter. there's a spotify playlist, and i will link it [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3wgXOirOGfD6kmyENA3Qhv?si=nes6GyvoRnSJ-pfMIQwmLQ). For more places to read, spotify, and extras, click [here](https://linktr.ee/edamametoy2). 

i - stay by rihanna and mikky ekko

ii - glad you came by the wanted

iii - we are going to be friends by the white stripes

iv - bad blood by taylor swift and kendrick lamar

v - fly me to the moon by frank sinatra and count basie 

vi - ribs by lorde

vii - the world we made by ruelle

viii - counting stars by onerepublic

ix - centuries by fall out boy

x - the nights by avicii

xi - zero by imagine dragons

xii - help! by the beatles

xiii - kill! kill! kill! by the pierces

xiv - falling by harry styles

xv - here we go by extreme music

xvi - trouble by cage the elephant

xvii - shook by haley reinhart

xviii - hurts like hell by fleurie

xix - everybody talks by neon trees

xx - the night we met by lord huron and phoebe bridgers 

xxi - calpol by cavetown 

xxii - mess is mine by vance joy

xxiii - snowman by sia

xxiv - we won't by jaymes young and phoebe ryan

xxv - awake my soul by mumford and sons

xxvi - beige by yoke lore 

xxvii - train wreck by james arthur 

xxviii - gold rush by taylor swift

xxix - no roots by alice merton

xxx - 2 cigarettes by jack & jack

xxxi - homage by mild high club

xxxii - one for the road by arctic monkeys

xxxiii - hard times by paramore

xxxiv - bad liar by selena gomez

xxxv - arsonist's lullaby by hozier

xxxvi - dazed & confused by ruel

xxxvii - bullet by ann mar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3wgXOirOGfD6kmyENA3Qhv?si=nes6GyvoRnSJ-pfMIQwmLQ


	2. Prologue

_ I want you to stay _

The room was impeccably decorated. The floors were polished and shiny, and chairs were arranged in neat, even rows. Each chair had a bouquet of flowers tied to the side with golden ribbons, and everyone stood, looking at me. 

I took a deep breath to calm myself and started to walk. I held onto my father’s arm, steadying myself. It was like I couldn’t remember how to walk as I stepped further and further down the aisle. I stared straight ahead at the boy at the altar, who was standing tall. 

He was grinning, and looked as if he were going to burst with anticipation as the distance between us closed. I grinned back. 

Once we reached the altar, my father handed me over to the boy, who took my hand gracefully. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispered. 

“Thank you. You’re looking pretty great too.”

“I know,” he teased.

I smiled and held his hand tightly. We both turned to face the officiator, and the ceremony began. 

Us being the impatient people we were, we had specifically asked for the shortest ceremony possible, but it felt like time was dragging on and on. Finally, we were reaching the end. He squeezed my hand reassuringly and I returned the gesture.

“Almost there,” he whispered. 

“Thank Merlin,” I answered with a chuckle. “I thought we asked for the shortest ceremony.”

The officiator cleared his throat and spoke clearly. 

“If anyone objects to the union of this couple, speak now or forever hold your peace.” 

There was a painful silence as we turned to face the audience. They sat still, waiting for the ceremony to continue. 

Nobody moved. 

“Moving on,” the officiator said. “Now, Pepper-”

He was interrupted by a sudden gasp of the crowd. Confused, we both turned around and as soon as I saw it, I wished I hadn’t. 

In the middle of the aisle stood Draco Malfoy. 

I felt all air leave my lungs. Everyone stared at him in horror and Astoria looked mortified. 

“Don’t marry him,” he said quietly. He looked nervous, and he played with the sleeve of his dress robes. 

I couldn’t even breathe. 

“Don’t marry him,” he repeated, this time with more confidence. Letting go of his sleeve, he walked closer. 

_ “What?”  _ I sputtered, dropping the bouquet. 

“I love you, Pepper. I love you so much. I know I’ve had all the time in the world to tell you this, and I know I left you, but I need you to know. I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

I couldn’t reply. Tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. 

“Pepper,  _ Peppermint _ ,” he pleaded. “I should have told you another time, but I thought I was doing the right thing. But I can’t sit here and watch you marry someone else. Pepper, if you still love me, please don’t marry him. If what we had was real, don’t marry him.”

The crowd watched intently, trying to figure out what was going on. My gaze flickered between him and the boy in front of me. 

“Pepper?” Draco asked, looking at me. 

A million thoughts raced through my head. Tears started pouring down my face, ruining my makeup. I trembled, rocking back and forth on my heels. 

“I—”


	3. Cinnabar

_ My universe will never be the same  _

“Pepper, dinner!”

“Coming!” 

I sprinted downstairs, careful not to trip over Bruce. He didn’t like it when that happened. He yawned and walked down the stairs lazily.

I walked into the dining room and smelled the delicious scent of my mother’s Shepherd’s pie. “It smells good Mum,” I remarked, licking my lips hungrily. 

“You took the words right out of my mouth, kiddo,” Dad said, sitting down in his chair. “Hand me the mail?”

I stood from my seat and grabbed the pile of mail. I sifted through it to see if there was anything interesting, and I found a letter addressed to me. 

_ Miss Pepper Elain Atkinson  _

_ 7 Primrose Hill, second floor, first room on the right  _

The envelope was made out of an odd type of paper, and it had a wax seal on the back. It had the words  _ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _ written on the front. 

“What’s that?” Dad asked. 

“I don’t know,” I replied, opening it. I pulled out a sheet of thick, brown paper and read its contents. 

_ Miss Atkinson,  _

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.  _

_ Yours Sincerely, _

_ Minerva McGonagall _

_ Deputy Headmistress  _

There was another paper attached, and it was a list of school supplies. “What the hell?” I muttered, after reading that I needed to buy a  _ wand and a cauldron _ . 

“What is it?” Dad asked. I handed him the letter, and he furrowed his eyebrows. “Camellia!” 

“What?”

“Look at this.”

“Just a moment.” Mum came through the door carrying the pie. She placed it in the middle of the table and then turned to Dad. “What?” 

He gave her the letter and she read it. Her face twisted as she looked up at us. “Witchcraft and Wizardry? This has to be some kind of joke.” 

“Maybe it’s a prank?” I suggested. “Maybe someone just wants a good laugh.” 

Mum exchanged worried glances with Dad. “Why would someone want to prank us?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but I was interrupted by the ringing of our doorbell. Bruce hissed at the sound of the doorbell and curled his tail around Mum’s leg. 

“It must be the milk,” she murmured, stepping over Bruce to answer the door. She opened the door and a strange woman stood before us. 

She wore a long, dress-like cloak and a large black hat. “Is this the Atkinson residence?”

“Yes. Who are you?” 

“Minerva McGonagall. May I come in?”

“That’s the lady from the letter!” I whispered to my father. My mother let her in, and she sat down on the couch. 

“I teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Did you receive a letter yet?”

“Yes,” I said, walking towards her. The four of us sat in the living room.

“You must be confused,” she said politely. “Let me explain. You are a witch, Pepper.” 

“A  _ what? _ ” 

“A witch.”

“No, I’m not,” I replied hastily. “I can’t be a witch. I can’t do magic or anything.”

She smiled. “Are you sure about that?”

I stared at the woman like she was crazy. “Yeah, pretty sure.”

“So you’re telling me that when you’re mad, nothing out of the ordinary happens?”

At that moment, countless memories flooded my brain. There was the time that Jazz Lancaster stole my jump rope and her soda bottle exploded, even though she wasn’t holding it tightly. Or the time that I had gotten grounded for being rude, and my glass figurines shattered. 

“Well…”

“That’s what I thought. You’re a witch, Pepper, and there’s a special school for you to learn all about magic. It’s called Hogwarts.”

“Hogwarts?”

“Yes. It is the best school you can go to. There, you will make friends and learn all about the Wizarding World.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s in Scotland.”

“Scotland? I can’t move to Scotland!” 

“You don’t need to. It’s a boarding school.”

I sat there, trying to let everything sink in. “But what about my parents? And my friends? Do they all get to come too?”

“I’m afraid not. You see, you are a Muggle-born witch. You were born to Muggles. Muggles can’t go to Hogwarts.”

“Muggles?” 

“Non-magical people. There are students who have magical parents. People who were born of magical parents are considered to be purebloods. Their entire ancestry has consisted of magical people. And then there are half-bloods. They have some Muggle blood somewhere in their ancestry.”

“Oh. So my parents are Muggles?”

“Yes.” 

“And I’m Muggle-born.”

“Yes,” she repeated, with a tight-lipped smile. 

“So she needs to go to this school to learn magic?” Dad questioned. “Do we need to pay?”

“No. The Ministry of Magic covers all fees except for school supplies.”

“The Ministry?”

“The government for the Wizarding World.”

“And where do we buy her these supplies?” Mum continued, looking at the list. “Where are we supposed to buy a wand? Or any of these books?”

“There is a place to buy all of these supplies. Tomorrow, I shall take you there to buy everything. You will need to bring money, so we can convert it into our currency.” 

After McGonagall explained a few more things, she stood up. “I’ll be here tomorrow at 10 o’clock sharp to buy Pepper’s materials.”

And with that, she left. The three of us remained in the living room, each trapped in our own thoughts.

“Well,” Mum said after a long period of silence. “Who’s hungry?”

∆ ∆ ∆

I woke up the next morning absolutely ecstatic to go shopping for my new supplies. I spent nearly the entire night thinking about the things I would learn and the cool people I would meet. I was sad to leave my old friends and school behind, but I was more excited to learn about a whole new world that had been here all along. 

We had a quick breakfast of eggs and toast. Mum and Dad were incredibly proud and excited. They couldn’t wait to see what I’d learn. But there was also a cloud of worry hanging over them, and I figured it was because I’d have to be away from them for so long. 

At exactly 10 o’clock, Professor McGonagall was at our door. We traveled to London, and she led us inside of a pub called The Leaky Cauldron. We passed by dozens of other witches and wizards drinking a variety of multi-colored drinks. 

We went to the back of the place and stopped by a plain brick wall. McGonagall tapped a few bricks, and suddenly they faded away. We stood before a large string of stores and restaurants. I stared at the entire scene in awe. 

We bought all of my supplies, and McGonagall gave us strict instructions on how to get to the Hogwarts Express. After making sure that we were all set, she left us back at home. 

“What a day!” Mum exclaimed, walking to the fridge. She poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Dad. “This calls for a celebration! To our beautiful daughter Pepper, who will be the best witch Hogwarts has ever seen!” 

“To Pepper!” Dad said, clinking his glass with Mum’s. 

I giggled and stroked Bruce’s fur. “I’m going to miss you, though. I’ve never been so far from home before.”

“We’ll miss you too,” Mum said. “But we’ll see you during the holidays. And we still have a couple of weeks before September 1st.”

“True,” I replied. “Can I have wine?” 

Mum snorted. “Nice try.” 


	4. Jacinthe

_ I can tell that we are going to be friends  _

I could barely sleep the night before September 1st. I was much too excited about going to school. 

I woke up early and made sure that my trunk was properly packed. I slipped on my favorite jumper and jeans and skipped out of my room. I scooped up Bruce and planted a kiss on his head. 

“I’m going to miss you Bruce,” I said to him. He softly meowed and squirmed in my arms. “Promise me that you’ll be good.” 

He leapt out of my arms and darted downstairs. I followed him and sat down to breakfast. We ate quickly, and drove to Kings’ Cross Station. We walked together until we reached the crossing. 

“Goodbye, Pepper,” Mum said, sniffing. “We’re going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you, too,” I replied, hugging them both. “But I promise to write to you every week!” 

A tear slipped down my cheek as I hugged them for the last time. 

“Please behave yourself there,” Mum said. “I don’t want you getting expelled. I don’t know any other magic schools to send you to.”

I giggled. “I will.”

“You better get going,” Dad said after a moment. “You don’t want to miss the train.” 

I nodded and grabbed ahold of my trolley. 

Closing my eyes, I ran into the wall and came out on the other side. I bumped into a boy with my trolley, and he yelped in pain. 

“Oops, sorry!” I exclaimed. 

“Watch where you’re going!” The boy yelled. He had the lightest hair I had ever seen in my life. It was so blonde that it was nearly white. His grey eyes looked at me angrily. 

“Jesus, I said I was sorry.” 

“Whatever. Stupid prat,” he murmured, shoving me as he stalked off.

“What a git!” I said under my breath. Scowling, I dropped off my luggage and boarded the train. I searched for a place to sit, trying to find some kids my age. I ran into the blonde kid from before and I made sure to glare at him as I passed him. 

I was about to just sit in a random compartment when I saw a kid sitting alone. He had dark brown hair and was dressed in extremely baggy clothing. 

“Hi.” He turned to face me. “Can I sit here?”

He nodded eagerly. “Of course.” 

I walked into the compartment and sat across from him. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Harry,” he said. “Harry Potter.”

“Cool,” I replied. “My name’s—”

“Excuse me,” a voice piped up. Harry and I turned to see a short redheaded boy standing at the door of our compartment. “Do you mind if I sit with you? Everywhere else is full.”

“Not at all,” I responded. The boy sat down next to Harry and smiled. 

“I’m Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley.” 

“I’m Harry Potter.”

Ron gasped, and I wasn’t quite sure why. “So it’s true? Do you have the  _ scar? _ ” 

“Oh yeah.” Harry lifted his hair above his forehead and revealed a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. 

“Wow,” I remarked. “How’d you get that?” 

“You don’t know about Harry Potter?” Ron asked in disbelief. 

“I just met him like two minutes ago.”

“But you don’t know anything about him?”

I frowned. “Should I?”

“Everyone knows about Harry Potter!” 

“Are you famous, Harry?”

“Er–sort of.”

“Sort of? He defeated You-Know-Who as a baby!” 

“Who?”

“You-Know-Who.” 

“I don’t know who.”

“Wait,” Ron asked. “Are you a Muggle-born?”

I nodded. 

“That’s why you don’t know. Harry is a legend in the Wizarding World. He defeated one of the darkest wizards ever as a baby.”

“How’d you do that?”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. He killed my parents and tried to kill me.”

“Why?”

“They were fighting against him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.”

“That’s okay. I was only a baby, anyway,” he replied. “Wait a minute, what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t. It’s Pepper. Pepper Atkinson.” 

“Pepper?” Ron questioned. “Kind of an odd name, isn’t it?”

“It’s short for Virginia,” I answered.

“Oh yeah,” Harry said, nodding. “Like the comics.”

“The  _ what? _ ” Ron asked. 

“Comic books. They’re like normal books but they’re all pictures. I’m named after my parents’ favorite character.”

“Pepper Potts,” Harry interjected. “My cousin Dudley likes to read those. Well, look at the pictures. I don’t think he can actually read… Anyway, I used to steal them when he wasn’t looking.”

Before Ron could ask any more questions, a lady pushing a trolley full of sweets approached us. 

“Anything from the trolley?”

“No thanks,” Ron said, holding up a bag of mushy sandwiches. “I’m all set.”

I started to fish out some coins from my pocket when Harry turned to the woman. “We’ll take the lot!” 

∆ ∆ ∆

The candy was different from the type I was used to. Each candy had its own spell or twist to it, and I enjoyed trying all of them. 

As Harry and Ron discussed a Chocolate Frog card, I noticed a small rat crawling around. “Who's that?”

“Oh that’s Scabbers,” Ron replied. “Pathetic, isn’t he?”

“Just a bit,” Harry said. 

“Fred gave me a spell to turn him yellow. Want to see?”

Harry and I nodded and Ron pulled his wand out of his pocket. He cleared his throat and began. “Sun—”

Suddenly, a girl with bushy brown hair entered our compartment. 

“Have any of you seen a toad?” She asked, looking around. She was already dressed in her robes. “A boy named Neville’s lost one.”

The three of us shook our heads. Her gaze fell on Scabbers and Ron’s outstretched hand. “Are you doing magic? Let’s see.”

Ron cleared his throat again. “Sunshine daisies, butter mellow, turn this big fat rat yellow!” 

A small yellow spark emerged, but Scabbers remained the same color. 

“Is that a real spell?” The girl asked. “Well, it’s not very good, is it?”

The three of us exchanged wary glances as she continued. 

“I’ve only tried a few simple spells, but they’ve all worked for me. For example… ” She sat down next to me and pointed her wand at Harry’s face.  _ "Oculus Reparo!”  _

Harry’s broken glasses quickly mended themselves. He took them off and stared at them. 

“You’re Harry Potter!” She exclaimed excitedly. “I’m Hermione Granger. And you two are…?” 

“Pepper Atkinson.”

“Ron Weasley,” Ron said through a mouthful of food. 

“Pleasure,” she said, scrunching her nose and standing up. “You better change into your robes. I expect we’ll be arriving soon. And Ron, you’ve got some dirt on your nose.”

Ron rubbed his nose aggressively, trying to rid it of the dirt. I ended up taking my sleeve and wiping it off for him.

∆ ∆ ∆

“Finally!” I groaned as the train stopped. “I’m so hungry!” 

“I heard the feast is to  _ die _ for,” Ron commented, smoothing out his robes. The three of us stepped out of the train and walked to the large man who was ushering the first years to the boats. 

“First years this way! First years!” 

“Hey Harry!” Hagrid greeted. 

“Hey Hagrid.”

We boarded the boat along with another first year named Petunia Vixens . After we reached the other side, we entered the building. The castle was old, but very large. I wondered how I’d ever get used to it as we walked inside. Professor McGonagall was waiting for us by the staircase. 

“Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because while you are here, your house will be your family within Hogwarts. The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

Ron, Harry, and I exchanged excited glances. 

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I’ll return for you in a moment.”

Everyone buzzed with excitement. We began to discuss what houses we could be in when someone spoke up. 

“It’s true then, what they’re saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.” The blonde boy from earlier leaned against the staircase. Everyone broke into whispers about Harry, and he continued. “This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle.” He pointed to two large boys with blank looks on their faces. He walked to where we stood and looked Harry dead in the eyes. 

“And I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” Ron snorted at his name and Malfoy whipped his head around. “Think my name’s funny, do you?” He sneered. “No need to ask  _ yours _ . Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley.” 

Ron looked down sadly and I felt angry at this stupid Malfoy prick for insulting Ron. 

“Oh shut up,” I interjected. “It’s not like you’re much better.” 

He scrunched his nose in contempt. “Oh, it’s  _ you _ . Who are you anyway?”

“Pepper Atkinson.”

“Ha!” He chortled. “A blood traitor and a  _ Mudblood! _ You sure know how to pick them, don’t you, Potter?”

Everyone gasped at this statement, although I wasn’t sure why. Ron clenched his fists angrily, and Harry looked just as confused as I was. 

“You’ll soon find that some folk are better than others. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort.” He gave us a disgusted glare, and outstretched his hand. “I can help you there.” 

Harry looked at his hand and then looked back up at Malfoy. “I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.” 

Malfoy glared at Harry angrily and stalked back to his spot just as McGonagall returned. We followed her to the Great Hall, and there were four tables, each for its designated house. We walked up to the very front of the room, where a man with a pearly white, long beard stood.

“Now before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words,” McGonagall said, motioning to the man with the beard.

“I have a few start of term notices I wish to announce,” Dumbledore said. The first years please note that the forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that the 3rd floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you.”

McGonagall unrolled a large piece of parchment and turned to us. “When I call your name, you will come forth, and I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head so you can be sorted. Abbott, Hannah.”

A blonde girl slowly stood up and McGonagall placed a ratty old hat on her head. After a few moments of deliberation, it made its choice. 

“HUFFLEPUFF!” 

Hannah skipped over to the Hufflepuff table, clearly pleased with her new house.

“Adams, Emily.”

“SLYTHERIN!”

“There isn’t a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin,” Ron whispered to us.

“Ron, that’s ridiculous,” I said. “A house doesn’t define someone.”

“Just saying.” 

“Atkinson, Virginia.” 

I heard Malfoy snicker and whisper things to Crabbe and Goyle, but I paid no attention to him as the hat was placed on my head.

“Virginia? You’re Pepper,” the hat said in a scratchy voice. 

“I know. Pepper’s a nickname for Virginia.” 

“How?”

“Virginia ‘Pepper’ Potts is a character from a comic book.” I explained.

“If you insist,” he sighed. “Muggles are creative, aren’t they?”

“I suppose so.”

“Now let’s see,” the hat murmured. “Definitely not a Hufflepuff. It’s just not like you. Not a Ravenclaw, either. You are smart, but your priorities lie elsewhere. Slytherin or Gryffindor? Do you have a preference?”

“I don’t care. I want to be in the house that suits me the most.”

“I know just where you belong, then. GRYFFINDOR!” 

I hopped off the stool and ran towards the Gryffindor table, where a redheaded prefect who looked an awful lot like Ron was seated to my right. 

“Percy Weasley, nice to meet you, Pepper,” he greeted.

“Are you Ron’s brother?” I asked.

He nodded as two extra voices entered the conversation. 

“So am I!” 

“And me!” 

“I’m Fred and this is—”

“George. We’re Ron’s brothers, too.”

“The handsome ones, of course.” 

“Nice to meet you,” I giggled at the twins. We turned our attention back to the Sorting. Hermione soon joined us at the Gryffindor table, and we started talking. She was actually very nice, and we seemed to have a lot in common, considering that we were both Muggle-born. I knew right away that we’d be good friends. 

“Malfoy, Draco.”

“Ugh, not that idiot,” I muttered.

“He isn’t very nice, is he?” Hermione added. 

“Nope.”

The hat barely touched his head before it yelled its choice.

“SLYTHERIN!” 

He smugly walked to the Slytherin table with both of his goons. “I hope I don’t see him around.” 

“Vixens, Petunia .” 

The redheaded girl with green eyes just like Harry’s sat on the stool. The hat took its time, seemingly having a hard time placing Petunia . 

“She’s nearly a hatstall,” Hermione whispered.

“A what?”

“A hatstall,” Percy said, inserting himself into our conversation. “It’s when the Sorting Hat takes more than five minutes to choose a House.”

“Oh.” 

The hat was only on Petunia for four minutes before it called out its decision. 

“SLYTHERIN!” 

Instead of the loud applause that every other Slytherin student had received, Petunia was met with silence. A silence that was broken by none other than Draco Malfoy. 

“Is this a joke?” He cried. “A Mudblood in  _ Slytherin? _ ”

Half of the Slytherin table agreed with Malfoy’s statement. They applauded him and nodded while the other half seemed to disagree. They scowled and shook their heads. The rest of the Great Hall burst into angry cries, and it was complete chaos. 

“SILENCE!” Dumbledore yelled. “Next student, please.” 

I had absolutely no idea why Malfoy’s words were a big deal. I had no idea what the word ‘Mudblood’ meant, but I could assume that it wasn’t a good thing. 

“Hey Percy!” I whispered, turning away from Hermione to face him.

“What is it, Pepper?”

“What does that word mean?”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. “Which one?”

“Mudblood. What does it mean?”

His jaw tightened. “Mudblood is a derogatory term for Muggle-born witches and wizards. It means dirty blood. It’s mostly used by purebloods and prejudiced folk. ” 

“But why would they call them that?”

He sighed. “Purebloods, and sometimes even half-bloods, think that they’re better than Muggle-borns because Muggle-borns don’t have wizard blood in them. They consider Muggles to be inferior because they do not possess the ability to perform magic.” 

“Well that’s stupid,” I muttered. 

Percy nodded. “It is. It really makes no sense. Being pureblood doesn’t mean you’re better at magic. There have been plenty of Muggle-borns who are great at magic.”

“So that prat Malfoy, he’s a pureblood?”

“He is. He belongs to one of the most prejudiced families ever. I figured they’d teach him such horrid words young. But not all purebloods are prejudiced like that. Take my family for example. We’re purebloods and we don’t care.”

“Makes sense. I hadn’t been in the castle for more than five minutes when he first called me a Mudblood.”

Percy scowled. “Don’t listen to him. He’s an idiot.” 

I glanced at the Slytherin table, where Malfoy and his goons were making fun of Petunia . But if she noticed, Petunia didn’t care. She was too busy talking to some nicer Slytherins. “Are all purebloods in Slytherin?”

“Most of them are.” 

“Potter, Harry!” 

The Great Hall went silent again as Harry sat on the stool. 

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat yelled. 

Harry grinned as he sat down at the Gryffindor table. “I’m glad I didn’t get stuck with Malfoy.”

“That makes two of us,” I added.

“Weasley, Ron!” 

“GRYFFINDOR!” 

After the Sorting ended with a Blaise Zabini being sorted into Slytherin, the feast began. I had never seen so much food, and it was all incredibly delicious. I ate until I felt like I was going to explode, and then Percy escorted us to Gryffindor Tower.

I shared a room with Hermione, and three other Gryffindor girls. Lavender Brown was very nice, and Padma and Parvati Patil were twins. We settled in, and I quickly fell asleep, excited for the first day of classes.


	5. Kermes

_Cause baby now we got bad blood_

Even though I was thoroughly exhausted by last night’s events, I woke up bright and early for my first day of classes. I dressed in my brand-new Gryffindor robes and went to breakfast with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. At breakfast, McGonagall handed us our schedules. 

Much to my dismay, our first class of the day was Transfiguration with the Slytherins. I didn’t have a problem with the house as a whole. My problem was the slimy, annoying, and idoitic scumbag that was Draco Malfoy. 

Hermione and I arrived to class a few minutes early, and we chose seats in the front of the class. There was a tabby cat on McGonagall’s desk that reminded me an awful lot of Bruce. I was hit with a pang of homesickness as I looked at the cat. 

The class arrived in different chunks. Some students were early like Hermione and I, some were on time, and some were late.

Some being Ron and Harry.

After they were scolded by McGonagall, she pulled out a clipboard. “Don’t get too comfortable, students. You have assigned seating.” 

“Miss Granger with Mr. Longbottom, Miss Abbott with Mr. Weasley, Miss Brown with Mr. Zabini, Miss Parkinson with Mr. Potter…”

I blanked out while I waited for my name. I didn’t care who I sat with as long as it wasn’t with—

“And Miss Atkinson with Mr. Malfoy!” 

My neck snapped up and I groaned out loud. Hermione shot me a sympathetic look as I turned to look at Malfoy.

“Now move!” 

“Professor, I don’t want to sit with the Mudblood! She’ll infect me with her germs!” 

“I don’t want to sit next to you,” I said hotly. “What if I get dumber?”

“Enough!” McGonagall fumed. “You will sit next to each other.”

I angrily grabbed my bag and moved to Malfoy’s table. I sat as far away from him as possible and focused my attention to the front of the room. 

“Now these will be your partners for the entire year,” McGonagall announced. I groaned again and shot daggers at Malfoy, who looked furious. “For the next few minutes, I want you to get to know each other.”

“Like I want to learn anything about the Mudblood,” Malfoy said with an agonized look on his stupid pale face. 

“Well too bad I’m the teacher,” McGonagall said, handing every student a piece of paper. “Fill this out with your partners.”

It was a list of ten questions, and I begrudgingly dipped my quill in ink and scribbled my name at the top.

“Bad blood _and_ bad handwriting? You really are screwed up.”

I scowled. “Whatever, Malfoy. Let’s just do the work, okay?”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” he grumbled. 

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked.

“Green. Yours? Is it mud brown?”

“Red,” I said through gritted teeth. “When’s your birthday?”

“June 5, 1980. Yours?”

“March 30, 1980. Do you have any siblings?”

“No, you?”

“No. What’s your favorite food?”

“Roast duck. Yours?” 

“ _Roast duck?_ That’s your favorite food?” 

“Are you judging me?”

“Well duck just doesn’t sound very appetizing.”

“Well it is. But I wouldn’t expect you to understand. It’s usually served at my family’s parties.”

I rolled my eyes. “My favorite food is pizza.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a Muggle food.”

“Figures,” he said, writing it down on his parchment. I didn’t even bother telling him that it was spelled incorrectly. “Do you have any pets?”

“I have a cat at home. His name is Bruce, after—”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine. Do you have pets?”

“We have an owl and that’s it.”

“Name?”

“Gemini.” 

“Okay…” 

“Look at me,” he barked as I wrote down the answer to the previous question. 

“Give me a minute.” I finished writing and looked at him. He stared at me intensely, and brought his face closer to mine. 

“What are you doing?” I asked irritably, scooting away.

“The next question you idiot. But I can’t tell what color your eyes are.”

“Hazel,” I replied. “Sometimes they’re green, sometimes they’re brown. Mostly brown.”

“Weird. Mine are grey.”

“I know.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m not _blind_ , Malfoy.” 

“Okay my hair’s blonde, yours is mud brown.”

I huffed angrily. “Do you speak any languages besides English?”

“Yes. French.”

“Really?” I asked. “Prove it.” 

_“Sang-de-Bourbe.”_

“Are you kidding me? Did you just call me a Mudblood in French?”

He smirked. “Do you speak French too?”

“Yes.” 

“Impressive, Mudblood. What’s your middle name?”

I rolled my eyes. “Elain.” I watched as he wrote it down. “It doesn’t have an E at the end.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“It’s spelt _E-l-a-i-n_.” 

“Why?” 

“My parents wanted it to be different.” 

“Weird. Thank Merlin. Last question—”

“Wait, what’s _your_ middle name?”

“Patience, Atkinson, patience.” I raised my eyebrow at his sudden use of my surname. “It’s my father’s name, which just so happens to be part of the next question.”

I glanced at the paper and read the next question. “So what are your parents’ names?”  
“Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.”

“So your middle name is Lucius?”

He nodded. I almost commented on his parents’ unusual names, but I decided against it. “My parents are named Camellia and William Atkinson.”

He scoffed. “Stupid Muggle names. Though, I suppose they fit for stupid Muggles.”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything about your parents’ names!” 

“What would you say about them? They’re good names!” 

“Who the bloody hell is named _Lucius?_ That’s just weird!” 

“It’s not as weird as having Muggles for parents! Just imagine being around filth all the—”

I couldn’t take anymore of him insulting my parents. He had no idea who they were, and he had no right to disrespect them. In a fit of rage, I swung my arm back and punched him in the face. He fell off his chair and clutched his face in agony. 

“Don’t you dare insult my parents! They may be Muggles but they’re ten times the person you’ll ever be!” 

“You stupid Mudblood! You’ll pay for that!” 

“What is the meaning of this?” McGonagall demanded. 

“He keeps calling me a Mudblood and insulting my parents!”

“She punched me in the face and infected me with her germs!” 

“Oh yeah? I’ll do it again,” I retorted, winding my hand again. 

“NO!” McGonagall yelled. “Both of you, see me after class!” 

As I sat back down, I glanced in Harry’s direction. He was stifling laughter, and so was Ron and Hermione. I smiled to myself and paid attention to McGonagall, who started her lesson. 

∆ ∆ ∆

“I can’t believe it! Two first years fighting!”

“I didn’t do anything, Professor. She’s the one who punched me,” Malfoy remarked indignantly. 

“He called me a Mudblood and insulted my parents!”

“I did no such—”

“Enough! Whatever may have happened, I cannot let your actions go unexcused. You will both be serving a detention tonight.”

“But—”

“No buts, Miss Atkinson. Violence is never the answer. You’re lucky I haven’t deducted any points. You two will report back here immediately after dinner. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” we muttered angrily. 

“Good. Now go to your next class. I wouldn’t want you to earn another detention.” 

I snatched my bag off of the table and stormed out of the classroom, not bothering to say anything to Malfoy. I caught up with Harry and Ron, who seemed to be taking their sweet time to class. 

“I can’t believe it!” I moaned. “I got detention on the first day!” 

“McGonagall gave you detention for punching Malfoy? But he provoked you!” Ron protested. 

“I know but _violence is never the answer_. I’d like to see her when someone insults her parents.”

Almost all of my classes passed without interference. I didn’t sit anywhere near Malfoy, and I was lucky enough to be far away from him if our seats were assigned. 

But potions was not a fun class.

I sat in between Ron and Harry. I waved to Hermione from across the room. She sat in front with a Hufflepuff girl I hadn’t seen before. I pulled out my book and waited for our teacher to enter the room. A few moments later, a tall man wearing black robes and a frown walked in. He walked to the front of the room and turned to us. 

“There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class,” he said in a flat voice. “As such, I don't expect many of you to enjoy the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition,” He paused and looked at Malfoy. I nearly gagged. What could be so special about him? “I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper in death.”

He looked over each student carefully. He rolled his eyes at Ron, blinked when he looked at me, and then he scowled deeply as he looked at Harry. It was like he hated him. Harry was oblivious to all of this as he took notes. 

“Then again, maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention.” I jabbed Harry in the ribs and motioned to Snape. 

“ _Mr. Potter_. Our new celebrity,” he drawled. “Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” 

Hermione’s hand launched into the air and Harry shrugged, looking terribly confused. “You don't know? Well, let's try again. Where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?” Hermione’s hand stayed in the air. 

“I don't know, sir.”

“And what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?” Hermione kept her hand up. 

“I don't know, sir,” he repeated. I felt angry with Snape. Why was he targeting Harry? 

“Pity. Clearly, fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?” He sneered and turned around.

“That’s not fair, sir,” I retorted. 

“Excuse me?”

“That’s not fair. Why are you grilling Harry and nobody else?”

His crooked nose twitched. “What’s your name?”

“Pepper Atkinson.”

“Well, _Miss Atkinson_ ,” he mocked. “Let’s see if you’re smarter than your little _friend_ over here. Do you know the answer to any of my questions?”

“No, sir.” 

“Then I’d suggest keeping your mouth shut. Twenty points from Gryffindor for Mr. Potter and Miss Atkinson’s irresponsible oblivion.”

I was about to respond again when Harry grabbed my arm and shook his head. 

“Who knows the answer to my questions?” Snape barked. “Anyone? Mr. Malfoy?”

“If you add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood, you’d get Draught of Living Death, which is a very powerful sleeping potion. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons. Finally, Monkshood and Wolfsbane are the same thing. They also go by the name Aconite.”

Snape’s lips curled upwards. “Twenty points to Slytherin. At least _somebody_ had the common sense to crack open a book before the start of the term.” 

Malfoy shot Harry and I a nasty look. It took all I had to resist the urge to sock him in the face again. Instead, I took solace in the large purple bruise he had on his cheek. 

“Why aren’t you all writing this down?” Snape demanded. “Now moving on…” 

∆ ∆ ∆

It became abundantly clear that Snape hated Gryffindors. I wasn’t quite sure why, but he seemed to despise us. I didn’t really care or take his sentiments to heart since he seemed to favor Malfoy. And I knew anybody who did that wasn’t right in the head. 

After a delicious dinner of steak and kidney pudding, I begrudgingly made my way towards the Transfiguration classroom for my detention. When I arrived, Malfoy was already there, and he sat at a random desk. I sat three desks away from him, and waited for Professor McGonagall’s instructions. 

“You two are going to clean as much of this classroom as you can in one hour,” she instructed. 

“But it’s already clean,” I said, looking at the spotless environment. 

McGonagall waved her wand and concocted her own mess. “Now it’s not. And no magic. In fact, give me your wands.” 

I gave her my wand silently, but Malfoy clutched onto his. 

“What if there’s an emergency?”

“It’s not like you know any spells to save yourself,” I retorted.

McGonagall sighed. “She’s right. Just give it to me, Mr. Malfoy.”

He grumbled as he handed her his wand. 

“I’ll be back in an hour. And when I return, there better be no signs of a physical struggle.” And with that, McGonagall exited the classroom.

“Way to go, Mudblood,” Malfoy spat as I picked up a broom. I ignored him as I began to sweep the floor. He grabbed a broom and held it awkwardly. 

“Do you even know how to use that?” I asked.

“Of course not!” He snapped. “I’m a _Malfoy_. I don’t know how to do servants’ work.”

I sighed. “Why don’t you just clean the tables?”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” 

“Fine then,” I said, dropping my broom. “You sweep.”

His face twisted angrily as he started to clean off the tables. Feeling rather victorious, I grabbed my broom and continued sweeping. Once I was finished, I started helping Malfoy clean off the tables. As I reached for a pile of parchment, his arm brushed against mine and he immediately recoiled. 

“Watch it! You’re going to infect me with your germs!”

I huffed. “I don’t have any germs.”

“Yes, you do. You’re a _Mudblood_.”

I ignored him and snatched the parchment off the desk. I busied myself with rearranging it as he continued. 

“I can’t believe she locked me in here with you. And without wands!”

“For someone who hates Mudbloods so much, you sure love talking to them,” I stated. That shut him up. 

The rest of the hour passed without any arguments. When McGonagall returned, she was thoroughly pleased to find out that we had managed to clean the entire classroom. But before we left, she made us apologize. 

“Malfoy, I’m sorry I punched you in the face,” I lied. “It wasn’t very nice of me.”

“M–Atkinson, I’m… sorry that I insulted your… family.” 

“Good. Now you can leave,” McGonagall said. We walked out of the room together.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could be so civil,” I mocked. 

“Don’t think I actually meant it, Mudblood.”

“It’s sarcasm, pure-brat.” 

I made my way back to Gryffindor Tower and sat on the couch next to Hermione, who was deep in a textbook. 

“How was detention?”

“Awful,” I groaned. “Malfoy just loves to be a spoiled brat.”

“At least it’s over. But you have to admit, you probably shouldn’t have punched him.”

“But he deserved it! And if I had the chance to, I’d do it again.”

Hermione sighed. “Just don’t go getting into trouble because of him. He’s not worth it. He just wants a reaction.”

“I know, I know. I think the best thing I can do is avoid him.”

“Most likely.” 

“But that’ll be difficult during Transfiguration.”

“Just do the work and hope for the best. Besides, you won’t be his partner forever.”

“The rest of the year sure feels like forever.”

“Try not to think about that,” she said, putting down her book. “Now what did you get for number 7 on the Charms homework? I put…” 


	6. Azure

_ Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars  _

At Friday’s lunch, all Ron could talk about was our flying lesson. 

“I already know how to fly, of course, but it doesn’t make it any less exciting! Imagine when we can try out for the Quidditch team! It’ll be great!” 

“Like you’ll get on the team!” Fred said, snatching a piece of toast from Ron’s hand. 

“Hey!” 

“Fred’s right,” George replied. “You’re too scrawny for Quidditch.” 

“I’m too scrawny now, but I won’t always be like this!” Ron protested. 

“What about you, Pep?” Fred asked. “Are you going to play Quidditch?”

“I don’t even know what that is,” I answered. 

The twins gasped. “You don’t know what Quidditch is?” I shook my head. “What have you been teaching her, Ronnie?”

“Quidditch is amazing,” George told me. “You’ll love it.”

“I don’t even know how to fly.” 

“But after today, you will. Then you can join us on the team!”

Harry arrived after that, and the three of us walked to our flying lessons together. Much to my dismay, I saw that we had flying lessons with the Slytherins. Harry, Ron, and I found empty spots next to Hermione, and we each stood next to a very worn-out broom. 

“Good afternoon, class.” A witch with short spiky hair and yellow eyes approached us. 

“Good afternoon, Madam Hooch.” 

“Welcome to your first flying lesson,” she announced. “Step up to the left side of your broomstick, stick your hand over it, and yell ‘up’. Try it now.”

I stuck my hand over the broomstick. “Up!” To my surprise, the broom flew straight to my hand on the first try. 

“Woah!” Ron exclaimed, still struggling to lift his own broom. Harry also got it on his first try, and we exchanged grins. 

Much to my chagrin, Malfoy also got his broom on the first try. Hermione’s broom seemed very intent on staying on the ground, and Ron’s broom hit him square in the nose. 

“Now that you’ve got a hold on your brooms,” Madam Hooch called, “I want you to mount it. When I blow my whistle, I want you to kick off  _ gently _ , hover for a moment, and then return to the ground. Ready?”

I gripped my broom tightly and waited for her signal. She blew her whistle, but I didn’t get a chance to try it out because Neville Longbottom soon lost control of his broomstick. 

“Mr. Longbottom! Mr. Longbottom!”

“What’s he doing?” I whispered to Ron. 

“I have no clue,” he whispered back. “I don’t even think  _ he _ knows.” 

Everyone watched as Neville soared through the sky, his face white with fear. He screamed as he hit several walls, and he finally landed on the edge of a sharp statue, being held only by his robes. His cloak ripped, and he fell to the floor with a loud thud. 

Several students gathered around him, and Madam Hooch rushed to the whimpering boy. “Oh dear,” she sighed, “it’s a broken wrist.” She lifted Neville up and turned to us. “Everyone must stay on the ground while I escort Mr. Longbottom to the Hospital Wing. If I see  _ anyone _ in the air, they’ll be out of Hogwarts faster than you can say ‘Quidditch’. Understood?” She and Neville rushed away. 

“I didn’t even get to fly yet,” I complained to Harry and Ron. “Although, I do hope that Neville’s okay. How—”

I was interrupted by a series of rounds of malicious laughter. I turned to see Malfoy and his two bodyguards laughing. Malfoy held a small glass ball with red smoke inside of it. I recognized it to be a Remembrall. Neville had shown all of us during breakfast. 

“Did you see his face?” He chortled. “Maybe if the fat lump had given this a squeeze, he would have remembered to land on his fat arse.” 

“Give it here, Malfoy!” Harry yelled. 

Malfoy smirked. “No. I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find.” He mounted his broom and kicked off, soaring several feet above us. “How about on the roof?” Harry glared at him and gripped his broom tightly. 

“What’s the matter, Potter?” Malfoy taunted. “Is it a bit out of your reach?” 

Harry began to mount his broom, but Hermione stopped him. “Harry, no! You heard what Madam Hooch said. Besides, you don’t even know how to fly!” Harry flew into the air, ignoring Hermione’s warnings. The entire class watched as they argued. I couldn’t let Malfoy win, so I grabbed my broom from where it lay on the grass and prepared to take off.

“Not you too, Pepper!” Hermione cautioned. “You could get expelled!” 

“I have to help Harry. Besides, I’m sure that we’ll be fine” I said, and joined the boys in the air. 

“Not  _ you _ ,” Malfoy whined. “What do you want?”

“Give me Neville’s Remembrall,” I demanded. 

“No.” 

“Give it here, Malfoy, or I’ll knock you off your broom!” Harry threatened. 

“Is that so? Fine, have it your way then.” Malfoy threw the orb with all his might, and it went flying through the air. 

Harry and I flew after it, but I stopped when I noticed Harry gaining on it. He caught it just before it hit the wall, and he grinned. “I got it!” 

I noticed Malfoy sinking towards the ground. I thought that he was accepting defeat, but I saw him pick up a rock. He threw at Harry as hard as he could, and I sped towards it, managing to catch it in time. I threw back at him, and it hit him square in the stomach, knocking his air out. 

Laughing, I joined Harry in descending, and we were met by the cheers of our classmates. However, our glory was short-lived when we saw McGonagall striding towards us. 

“Mr. Potter! Miss Atkinson! Come with me.  _ Now. _ ”

“Oh no,” I murmured. Harry and I exchanged worried glances as we sullenly followed McGonagall. I tried to ignore Malfoy’s chortles as we left. 

We followed McGonagall into the castle, and I was trying to find a way to explain everything to my parents. I wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to explain my expulsion from magic school to them. I didn’t want to leave Hogwarts, especially after barely spending any time here, but it seemed like there was no other option. At least it wasn’t as bad as Harry’s situation, though. At least I had nice people to return to. He had to go back to people who hated him. I wondered whether or not my parents would let Harry stay with us. 

“Wait here,” McGonagall said, interrupting my thoughts. Harry and I waited outside of a classroom, and she came back with a lanky, brunette boy.

“Potter, Atkinson, this is Oliver Wood.” He seemed to be equally as confused as us, and he smiled awkwardly. “Wood, I have found you a new Seeker and Chaser.”

I stared at them blankly. Wood’s muddled expression turned into one of what can only be described as elation. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. I’ve never seen anything like it. They’re naturals.” 

Wood’s eyes sparkled. “Wonderful! They’ll need brooms, and we’ll have to start training right away, and—”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “We’re not expelled?”

“Not this time,” McGonagall said, smiling. “But please try to refrain from hitting Mr. Malfoy. That’s the second time this week.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

“Seeker and Chaser?” Ron exclaimed as we walked through the halls. “But first years never make the team! You two must be the youngest players in—”

“In a century,” Harry finished. “That’s what McGonagall said anyway.”

I felt a hand ruffle my hair, and I turned to see Fred and George Weasley. “Well what did we say, Pep? We just heard the news!” 

“Fred and George are on the team, too,” Ron told Harry. “They’re Beaters.” 

“Beaters?” I questioned.

“Our job is to make sure that you don’t get bloodied up too badly,” George said. “Can’t make any promises, though. Quidditch is a rough game.”

“It’s a brutal game. But nobody’s died in years. Someone’ll vanish occasionally—”

“But they usually turn up in a month or two,” George yelled as we parted ways. 

“Sounds great,” I muttered. 

“They’re only joking,” Ron said. “Quidditch is great!”

“I don’t even know how to play Quidditch,” Harry replied. “I’m going to make a fool out of myself. Or worse, I’ll die.”

“You won’t make a fool of yourself,” Hermione said, joining us. “It’s in your blood.”

“What do you mean?’

“Follow me.”

We followed her to the trophy case, and she pointed to a plaque with various players on it. There was a badge that read  _ James Potter, Chaser _ on it. 

“You didn’t tell us that your dad was a Chaser,” Ron said. 

“I didn’t know,” Harry replied. 

After staring at the trophy case, we decided to head back to the common room. We were climbing a flight of stairs when they suddenly started to move.

“Oh no,” I groaned. 

“ What's happening?” Harry asked.

“The staircases change, remember?” Hermione told him. The staircase finally stopped and we were in a completely different place.

“Come on. Let’s go this way. Before the stairs move again,” I said, and everyone followed me. 

“Does anyone feel like we shouldn’t be here?” Harry suddenly asked us. I looked around the corridor, and realized that I had never seen it before. 

“We're not supposed to be here. This is the 3 rd floor. It's forbidden,” Hermione answered.

I heard a soft meow, and turned to see Mrs. Norris walking towards us. 

“It’s Filch’s cat,” I whispered. 

“Run!” Harry yelled. The four of us ran down the hall and came across a door. I tried to open it, but it was locked. 

“We’re done for!” Ron exclaimed. 

“Oh move over!” Hermione groaned. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at the lock. “ _ Alohomora! _ ” The door unlocked, and we all rushed in, slamming the door behind us. 

“Alohomora?” Ron asked.

“Standard book of spells, Chapter 7.” Hermione replied.

I pressed my ear to the door, and heard a pair of footsteps. They reached the door, paused for a moment, and then left. “Filch is gone.”

“He probably thinks this door's locked,” Ron said. 

“It was locked,” Hermione reminded him.

“And for good reason,” Harry whispered. We turned around and my eyes widened at the sight before me. A huge, three-headed dog was sleeping in front of us. It stirred and opened its eyes. The four of us screamed and ran out the door, closing the door just before it could bite us. We ran all the way back to the common room, not bothering to look behind us. 

“What do they think they're doing?” Ron questioned while we tried to catch our breaths. “Keeping a thing like that locked up in a school!”

“You don't use your eyes, do you? Didn't you see what it was standing on?” Hermione asked.

“I wasn't looking at its feet! I was a bit preoccupied with its heads. Or maybe you didn't notice, there were three!” Ron continued to ramble. I nodded in agreement. 

“It was standing on a trap door. Which means it wasn't there by accident. It's guarding something.”

“Guarding something?” Harry asked.

“That's right. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed before any of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed...or worse, expelled!” She stormed up the stairs. 

“She needs to sort out her priorities,” Ron whispered. 

“I’m also going to bed,” I said to the boys. “I’ve had a long day.”

∆ ∆ ∆

A few mornings after our near-death experience, Harry and I reported to the Quidditch pitch to learn the ways of the game with Oliver Wood. I was excited to see how the game was played, mostly because Fred and George kept telling me that I was going to love it. 

“Quidditch is easy to understand,” Wood began. “Each team has 7 players. 3 Chasers, 2 Beaters, 1 Keeper, and 1 Seeker.” He walked over to a large brown trunk and opened it, revealing three balls. “There are 3 different types of balls. First, we have the Quaffle.”

He showed us a large red ball that reminded me a lot of a soccer ball.

“The Quaffle is for the Chasers.” He tossed the Quaffle to me. “Atkinson, your job is to get this ball through one of those hoops.” He pointed to a set of three hoops. “You can pass them to the other Chaser to make it easier. Got it?”

I nodded. “Got it.”

“Great. Now the Keeper, which just so happens to be me, defends the hoops. Questions?”

“What’s that?” Harry asked, pointing to one of the balls. It bounced up and down aggressively, despite the thick chains keeping it down. 

“Oh those. Take this.” He handed Harry a small bat and released the ball. It flew up into the air growling, and the three of us watched it fade away, and then come back. Harry whacked it with the bat, and it flew away from us once again. 

“Not bad, Potter. You’d make a fair Beater. Want to try, Atkinson?”

“Er–no thanks.”

The ball whizzed back, and Wood tackled it to the ground. It took him a while to put it back in the box, and when he finally did, he turned back to us. 

“That is a Bludger. Its job is to hit anyone it can. The Beaters hit it away from their teammates.”

“What’s the last ball?”

“Glad you asked, Atkinson.” He opened a small compartment in the trunk, and produced what looked like a tiny gold golf ball. “This is the Golden Snitch.”

“I like this one,” Harry said, taking it from Wood.

“Now you like it. Just you wait. It’s fast, and damn near impossible to see.”

“What do I do with it?”

“You have to catch it before the other team’s Seeker. If you catch this, we win.”

“We do?” I questioned. “A guaranteed win?”

“Well not exactly. Whoever catches the Snitch gets 150 points, and ends the game. It’s usually a win but sometimes, the other team is too far ahead.”

“But why would you catch it if you’re losing? Shouldn’t you keep trying?”

“That’s the thing, Atkinson. Sometimes, you need to recognize defeat. There’s no use fighting for a lost cause.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

After Wood explained the basics of Quidditch, I spent the entire weekend reading about it. I checked out multiple books from the library, and I could be found reading strategies by the fireplace. 

On Monday, I trudged to Transfiguration. The class itself was dreadful, but sitting next to Malfoy made it ten times worse. I desperately wished to sit with anyone else, but no matter how hard I begged, McGonagall always ignored my pleas.

“Mudblood,” he said as I sat down. I grunted in response and turned around, hoping that he’d ignore me. 

But he didn’t.

“I can’t believe you’re still here,” he spat. “You and Potter should’ve taken the train back to the Muggle world already.” 

“Sorry to disappoint,” I replied flatly. 

“I mean, you did break the rules.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And Hooch said that anyone who flew would be getting expelled.”

“Well we didn’t.”

“It’s ridiculous if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.”

“And to make matters worse, you both get spots on the Quidditch team. First years aren’t even allowed!”

“We must be special, then.”

He snorted. “You? Special?”

“Which one of us is on the Quidditch team?”

“I’ve figured it all out, though. Want to hear?”

I sighed. “You want to tell me, and I suppose that I have no objection hearing it.”

This was enough of an invitation to him. “They’re only keeping you because they need a certain number of Mudbloods in the school. That’s also why they put you on the Quidditch team. So it looks better.”

“Seriously? I didn’t get to stay to make the school look better, Malfoy. Expulsion wasn’t even considered for us. And I made the team because of talent. Not because I’m  _ Muggle-born. _ ”

“Talent my—”

“Mr. Malfoy, is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

“No, Professor.”

“Then be quiet.”

I shot him a smug smile and he scowled. I started to copy the notes on the board when a ripped piece of parchment landed on my textbook. I opened it and found Malfoy’s tidy cursive on it. 

_ I can’t wait to see you get ripped to shreds on the Quidditch fields.  _

Annoyed, I quickly scribbled back a response. 

_ Okay.  _

Not even a minute later, the note was thrown in my direction again. 

_ So you accept defeat? _

I nearly laughed out loud at his idiotic reply. I made sure that McGonagall wasn’t looking, and responded.

_ No. I just don’t really think your opinion is ever valid. Why would I trust you? If McGonagall and the Quidditch Captain think I can do it, then I think my chances are pretty high. _

Malfoy took a longer time to respond, but his reply came nonetheless. 

_ They didn’t put you in Ravenclaw for a reason, huh? The first match is against  _ _ Slytherin _ _. You don’t stand a chance. We have the best team. You should probably plan your funeral now. I heard lilies are the best funeral flowers. Perhaps I could set you up with a florist? _

I rolled my eyes and paused for a moment.

_ Careful, Malfoy. One might think that you’ll miss me.  _

He didn’t respond after that. 


	7. Heliotrope

_ You’re the only friend I need  _

On Halloween, I was in the library reading when I felt two people sit down next to me. 

“Hello Peppy,” George greeted.

“Long time no see,” Fred added. 

“I saw you two at lunch,” I said. 

Fred groaned. “It’s called joking, Pepper. You should try it sometime.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Very funny.”

“Why are you  _ reading? _ ” George asked, wrinkling his nose at the pile of books in front of me. 

“I’m trying to learn more about Quidditch,” I replied. “The first match is in a few weeks.”

“We know that. But you’ll be fine. There’s no need to stress.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve got a bat to hit the Bludgers. I don’t.”

“Don’t you trust us, Pep?” Fred pressed. “We’ll keep you safe from the Bludgers.”

“It’s not just that,” I admitted. “I don’t want to lose the game for anyone.”

“We’ve seen you practice, Pepper. You’re a good Chaser. But if you’re worried, you need more practice.” 

“We can help you with that.”

“Really? You don’t have to. I’m sure you have better things to do then help a stupid first year.”

Fred snorted. “Like what? Study?”

“Besides,” George added, “we want to help. And you’re our favorite first year.” 

“Thank you guys. Really. It means a lot.”

“We know we’re amazing. Let’s meet tomorrow after classes. Does that sound good?”

“That sounds great. I’ll see you there.”

“Until then, ickle Pepkins!” 

_ “Pepkins?” _

“It’s a combination!” George said proudly. “Pepper plus Atkinson. Pepkins.” 

I giggled. “Sounds great Gred and Forge.” 

They rolled their eyes playfully and left me reading in the library. 

“Pepkins?”

I groaned at the voice. “What do you want now?”

“Not very friendly, are you?”

“Not with you.”

“I was just minding my own business in the library —”

“You can read?”

He scowled. “Of course I can read. I’m not Crabbe.”

I almost laughed at his remark, but I forced a grimace. “Continue.”

“I was minding my own business when I heard you planning to practice with the Weaselbee twins.”

“ _ Weasley.  _ And what about it?”

“I don’t think you’ll do any better with their help.”

I grinded my teeth. “They’re trying to help me. And why do you care anyways? It almost sounds like you want me to win.”

“I don’t. I just like seeing a confirmation that Slytherin’s going to win.”

“Whatever floats your boat.”

_ “What?” _

“Never mind. Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

“Don’t worry, Atkinson. I’m not going to linger around. Wouldn’t want to catch any germs, now would I?”

“That’s the spirit.”

“See you later, Mudblood.”

I didn’t reply and he seemed to take great offense to this. 

“Are you deaf? I said goodbye, Mudblood. It’s rude to ignore people.

I groaned. “Scram, Pureprick.”

∆ ∆ ∆

After another hour reading in the library, I made my way to Charms class. I took my assigned seat next to Harry, and saw a feather in front of me. But before I could ask Harry what it was for, Professor Flitwick waddled into class, climbed his stack of books, and cleared his throat. 

“One of a wizard’s most rudimentary skills is levitation, and that’s what we will be working on today. Now to levitate an object, you need to use the incantation  _ Wingardium Leviosa _ . Can you say that?”

_ “Wingardium Leviosa.” _

“Good. And don’t forget your wand movement. The swish and flick. Practice on your feathers.”

I held my wand firmly in my hand and pointed it at the feather. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to lift it very long. Harry and I worked together with Seamus, and the three of us struggled to do it together.

Ron didn’t seem to be having much luck either. He sat across the room, next to Hermione, and they seemed to be arguing. 

“... besides, it’s  _ leviosa _ , not  _ leviosar _ .”

“You do it then, if you’re so clever,” Ron challenged. “Go on!” 

Hermione cleared her throat and pointed her wand at her feather.  _ “Wingardium Leviosa!” _

Her feather floated into the air, soaring well above everyone’s heads. Flitwick was overjoyed. 

“Well done! Look everyone, Miss Granger’s done it!” Ron sunk into his seat, grumbling. 

“How did she do that?” I groaned. 

“Let me try again,” Seamus said. “Wingard Levosa!”

“Isn’t it  _ Wingardium Levio _ —”

I was interrupted by a large explosion to my right. Seamus’s feather had exploded, and his face was covered in soot. 

“Professor, I think we’re going to need another feather over here,” Harry said as we stared at Seamus with wide eyes.

Class ended shortly after Seamus’s pyrotechnics show. I walked with Harry, Ron, and a few other Gryffindor boys through the courtyard. 

“It’s  _ leviosa _ , not  _ leviosar _ ,” Ron mocked. “She’s a nightmare! No wonder she hasn’t got any friends!” 

“Ron!” I scolded. “That’s —”

I stopped mid-sentence once I noticed Hermione push past the group, crying. 

“I think she heard you,” Harry said to him. Ron shrugged in response. 

“That was rude, Ron,” I said, walking away from the group. “That was really rude.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

Later that day, there was a Halloween feast in the Great Hall. I was still cross with Ron, so I resolved to sit with Hermione. But after a few minutes of looking for her, I realized that Hermione was nowhere to be seen. 

“Has anyone seen Hermione?” I asked. 

“Parvati Patil said that she's in the girls’ bathroom,” Neville answered. “Apparently, she’s been there all afternoon, crying.” 

I shot Ron a glare. “I’m going to go find her,” I said, standing. 

“Pepper, wait —”

The doors to the Great Hall burst open, and Professor Quirrell sprinted inside. 

“TROLL! IN THE DUNGEONS! T-TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!” He screamed. Everyone went silent as we watched the stuttering Professor. “Thought you should know,” he said before fainting.

There were five seconds of complete silence before the paranoia kicked in. I was terrified at the idea of a troll in the castle, and I was starting to wish I had gotten expelled when Dumbledore intervened. 

“SILENCE!” Everyone stopped panicking, and turned to face his way. “Everyone, do not panic. Prefects, lead your houses back to their dormitories. Teachers, follow me to the dungeons.” 

Percy began to usher us out of the Great Hall and back to Gryffindor Tower.

“How could a troll get into the castle?” I asked Harry and Ron. “Aren’t they supposed to be super tall? And dumb?” 

“Someone must’ve let it in,” Ron concluded. “Someone’s idea of a joke.”

“It’s a pretty sick joke if you ask me.” 

Harry stopped walking. “Hermione!” 

“What about her?” Ron grumbled.

I gasped. “She doesn’t know! We need to go warn her!” 

I took off from the group, and the boys followed. We went down the opposite corridor, down to the girls’ bathroom.

“There it is!” Ron exclaimed, pointing to a tall, ugly creature. “It’s going inside the bathroom!” 

“Let’s go!” 

The three of us slowly tip-toed into the bathroom. We hid behind the wall, and watched the troll wander around aimlessly. 

“I don’t think she’s here anymore,” I whispered. “Maybe she went back to the common room.”

We were about to leave when we heard a stall unclick. Hermione stepped out, wiping her eyes. She froze at the sight of the troll, who held a wooden club in its hands. 

“Hermione, move!” Harry yelled. Hermione let out a scream and dashed away from the troll, who nearly smashed her with the club. Ron and I picked up pieces of rubble, and started to throw them at the troll. 

“Help!” Hermione shrieked, hiding under the sinks. “Help!” 

Harry pulled out his wand, and charged towards the troll. He grabbed onto the club just as the troll lifted it, and he was suspended several feet into the air. He jumped onto the troll’s head and lurched forward, shoving his wand up the troll’s nose. 

I grabbed my own wand and tried to think of a spell to use. But before I could mutter an incantation, the troll grabbed my wand and snapped it in half. The troll pushed me aside, and I heard a crack and felt a stabbing pain in my arm. There was a large shard of glass wedged inside of it. 

Ron stood there, watching me try to remove the shard in horror. 

“Do something!” Harry shouted.

“What?”

“Anything!” 

Ron slowly took his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at the troll. 

“Swish and flick!” Hermione called.

_ “Wingardium Leviosa!”  _ Ron managed to levitate the troll’s club. The troll watched as his weapon ascended, and it fell onto its head, knocking it out. The troll fell to the ground, and dropped Harry. 

I hobbled over, clutching my arm and peering over the troll’s body. “Did you kill it?”

“No,” Ron said. “I think it’s just knocked out.”

Harry walked over to the troll’s nose and pulled his wand out. He started to complain about the boogers on it when a horde of teachers, including McGonagall, entered the room. Her gaze grew more and more horrified as she looked at my injured arm, Harry’s ripped robes, and the unconscious troll. 

“Explain!” She said after a while. 

“Well —” Ron began.

“It’s my fault, Professor,” Hermione lied. The three of us stared at her in shock. Hermione never lied to teachers. 

“Miss Granger?” McGonagall looked disappointed. 

“I went looking for the troll. I’d read about them and thought I could handle it. But I was wrong. If Ron, Harry, and Pepper hadn’t come and found me, I’d probably be dead.” 

McGonagall looked astonished at Hermione’s story. “That was a very foolish thing to do. I would have expected more from you, Miss Granger. 5 points will be taken from Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgement.” She turned to us. “As for you three, I hope you realize how fortunate you are. Not many students could take on a fully grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale. 5 points will be awarded to each of you for sheer, dumb luck.” 

We exchanged grins.

“Now, please escort Miss Atkinson to the Hospital Wing. That cut on her arm looks rather nasty.”

All of the teachers, except for Quirrell, left the bathroom. We left the stuttering mess in the bathroom and headed towards the infirmary. 

“Does it hurt?” Ron asked. 

“A bit. I’ve gone through worse.”

“Like what?”

“I fell off a zipline once. I broke my leg.”

“What’s a zipline?”

∆ ∆ ∆

Madam Pomfrey was able to heal me pretty quickly. The more pressing matter was my broken wand. I ended up having to make a quick trip to Diagon Alley, and I bought a new wand. Mum and Dad weren’t too pleased about having to buy a new one, especially since the first one had only lasted two months. 

My old wand had been made of mahogany wood with a unicorn hair core, but I now owned a willow wood wand with a phoenix feather core. I liked this wand better than my first one, since it felt like it listened to me more than the other. 

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I walked to Potions together. Ever since the troll incident, we had all become friends. I suppose that a near-death situation is a good way to bring people together. 

We sat down at our customary table, and I dreaded the moment that Snape would walk in. I was actually really good at Potions, and my potions always turned out perfectly. But this seemed to make Snape hate me more, and he always found something to critique. The Slytherins, on the other hand, never did anything wrong, even if their work was far from the expected result.

“Today, you’ll be brewing a Forgetfulness Potion in pairs,” Snape droned. Hermione poked me, and I nodded. 

“Assigned pairs.”

The class groaned. “I know, what a shame. You will be working with someone of the opposite house…”

At this point, I already knew that I’d be working with Malfoy. It seemed like all of the teachers planned to pair us up together for the rest of my time here. But to my surprise (and relief), I wasn’t paired with Malfoy. Instead, my partner was a tall, scrawny boy named Theodore Nott. 

But of course, Malfoy couldn’t be too far away from me. He and Lavender Brown were a desk behind us, which gave Malfoy plenty of opportunities to throw some snarky comments at me. 

“Hi,” I said warily. It was really hit or miss with some of these Slytherins. Some of them were really nice, and others preferred me not to speak to them so I wouldn’t infect them with my Muggle-ness. 

“Hi. I’m Theo,” he replied, and grinned. “Pepper, right?” I immediately felt comfortable with him, and I knew that he wouldn’t be one of the rude ones. 

“That’s me. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I’ll go get the ingredients. Is that okay?”

I nodded. “I’ll get started preparing the cauldron.”

As I read my textbooks, I heard someone whispering behind me. 

“Psst! Mudblood!” 

I tried to ignore it, and kept working. 

“Atkinson!” 

“What?”

“Oh nothing,” Malfoy drawled. “I just wanted to see what you’d mess up this time.”

“Not that it’s any of your business, Pureprat, but I’m actually really good at Potions.”

“Snape doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Snape doesn’t know left from right,” I retorted.

“Last time I checked,” Snape said, appearing out of nowhere, “left is that way, and right is the other way. I don’t quite appreciate your remarks, Miss Atkinson.”

“But —”

“25 points from Gryffindor for disrespecting your superiors.” 

Lavender Brown shot me daggers and I scowled at her. “That wasn’t even my fault!”

“Did you have to insult Snape?”

“Malfoy started it!” 

Malfoy cackled. “That was all you, Atkinson.”

I huffed and turned around just as Theo returned with the supplies. 

“Okay, I think I’ve got everything,” he said. “Why do you look so angry?”

I sighed. “Malfoy.” 

He seemed to understand. “What did he do?”

“I’m right here, Theo. Why don’t you ask me instead of the Mudblood?”

Theo stiffened at the term. “I’m talking to  _ Pepper, _ Malfoy.” 

Malfoy was angered by his comment and continued to work on his potion. 

“Sorry about that,” Theo apologized in a hushed voice. “He doesn’t always know when to shut up.”

I smiled. “Thanks. And don’t worry. I’m kind of already used to his… ways.” 

“He can be a prat sometimes. I find that he’s not too bad in small doses.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, laughing. 

Theo proved to be a great partner. He was really nice and funny, and I enjoyed his company. We managed to successfully brew a near perfect Forgetfulness Potion. And since Theo was a Slytherin, we got a few more points than I normally got on my own. 

“That was great!” I exclaimed as we exited the classroom. “He’s never given me that high of a score before!” 

“Really? But your potions always seem to be good. Yours and that other girl. What’s her name? Hermella? Hermés?”

“Hermione. And thank you for noticing! I think Snape just grades us differently because we’re Gryffindors.”

“Well that’s nasty.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Well, I’ll see you later Pepper. I better go see if Malfoy’s planning to kill me.”

I giggled. “Bye, Theo!” 

And for once, I left Potions in a good mood. 

∆ ∆ ∆

Later that day, I reported to the Quidditch pitch to practice with Fred and George. I borrowed one of the school’s brooms, since I didn’t own one, and pulled on my brand-new Gryffindor Quidditch uniform. 

“There she is!” Fred exclaimed. “We’ve been waiting ages!” 

“Sorry, sorry! I had to pick the nicest looking broom.”

“Let’s warm up with a few laps around the pitch, alright?”

After we were warm, George dragged out the trunk and threw me the Quaffle. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said. “I’m going to release both Bludgers, and I’m going to try to pelt them at you. Fred will beat them away.”

“Okay.”

“You just focus on avoiding the Bludgers and throwing the Quaffle through the hoops. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“I’m releasing them… now!” 

The two Bludgers flew into the air, and started violently flying around. I gripped the Quaffle tightly, and sped off into the air. 

To my surprise, I was able to dodge almost all of the Bludgers. There were a few that hit me, but I was able to regain my balance and keep flying. After about two hours of practice, the twins and I sat on the ground, rolling the Quaffle around. 

“You worry too much,” George said as he caught the ball. “You did great now. Just don’t panic.”

“The ugly twin’s right,” Fred added. “You psych yourself out. Just relax and you’ll be fine.”

“The ugly twin?” George scoffed. “Look at yourself, Fred.” 

“Pepper, which one of us is the ugliest?”

I tapped my finger against my lip in mock contemplation. “Hmmm. I need to think about it. You’re both awful to look at.” 

“How dare you!” George gasped. “I’ll have you know that I am ten times hotter than Fred.”

“That’s a lie!” Fred bellowed. “Take it back!” 

“It’s not my fault that I’m the handsomest thing on this planet. It’s not easy being this attractive.” 

I giggled at his comment, and Fred shot me a wink. “See? Your claims are so outrageous that Peppy over here is laughing at their stupidity.” 

“I’m hurt, Pepper,” George whined. “This is how you repay my generosity? By calling me ugly?”

“I didn’t call you ugly!”

“So you think  _ I’m _ ugly?” Fred exclaimed. 

“No, I never —”

“These ungrateful first years,” George said, shaking his head. “Why do we even bother in the first place?”

“Let’s put it this way,” I stated. “You’re both ugly.” 

“Take that back! You take that back!” They yelled. I shrieked, and sped away from them, dashing to the safety of the girls’ changing rooms. I put my broom away, and quickly changed back into my robes. 

“You can’t hide in there forever,” Fred whispered. 

“I’m changing!” I whispered back. “It’s almost dinner. You should change, too.”

“Nice try, Atkinson,” George responded. “We already changed. We’re not leaving until you pay for your treason.”

I knew that there was no escaping them, and in one swift motion, I opened the door and sprinted inside the castle. I ran as fast as I could, hoping that the twins wouldn’t catch up with me. I nearly rammed into five different people before I made it to the Great Hall.

Wheezing, I wedged myself in between Harry and Hermione, and smirked at the twins, who sat down a few people away from me.

“I’m safe!” I called out. 

They narrowed their eyes. “For now.” 


	8. Lovat

_ We’ll chase them down ‘til we’re face to face  _

The morning of the match, I was a hot mess. I walked to the Great Hall for breakfast, trying not to tremble so much. 

“Enjoy your last day of life, Atkinson!” Malfoy yelled from the Slytherin table. “We can’t wait to see those Bludgers hit you!” 

I wasn’t in the mood to listen to Malfoy’s idiotic comments, so I just ignored him as I walked to the Gryffindor table, where Ron was trying to get Harry to eat. 

“Come on, Harry. You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Pepper! You need to eat, too!” 

“I can’t,” I said, pushing my plate away. “I think I’ll puke if I eat anything.”

“Good luck today, Potter,” Snape drawled. I jumped in my seat and nearly spilled my goblet of pumpkin juice. Snape eyed me with distaste, and continued. “You too, Atkinson. But I doubt you’ll need it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well, if you managed to beat a troll, then this should be easy for you. Even if it’s against Slytherin.” With a final curl of his lip, he left, limping back to his seat. 

“That explains the blood,” Harry said. 

“Blood?” Hermione questioned. 

“That night, with the troll,” he continued, “I’m guessing that Snape let the troll in as a distraction so that he could try to get past the three-headed dog, but he got bitten. That’s why he’s limping.”

“But why would anyone want to get near that dog? It’s monstrous,” I inputted. 

“The day I was Gringotts, Hagrid took something out of one of the vaults. He said it was Hogwarts business.”

“So you’re saying…”

“That’s what the dog’s guarding. That’s what Snape wants.”

“Must be pretty special if some freak dog has to guard it,” I remarked. 

The mail came at that time, and an owl dropped two long rectangular packages in front of Harry and I. 

“What is this?” Ron asked. 

Harry and I shrugged, and we proceeded to open our packages.

“Oh my God!” I exclaimed, looking at the now opened parcel. “It’s a —”

“A Nimbus 2000!” Ron shouted gleefully. “Harry got one too!” 

“Bloody hell!” Oliver Wood shrieked. “A Nimbus 2000! A real Nimbus 2000!” 

As the Gryffindors crowded around the table, I happened to peak at the teachers’ table, where Snape sat sneering, and McGonagall stroked an owl. The same owl that dropped off our packages. She caught me looking and smiled. I grinned back. 

After I didn’t eat my breakfast, I walked with the rest of the team to the Quidditch pitch. 

“Scared?” Wood asked us. 

“Yes.”

“A little bit.” 

“That’s all right. I felt the same before my first game.”

“What happened?” I questioned. 

He sighed. “Er–I don’t really remember. Took a Bludger to the head two minutes. Woke up in the hospital a week later.” 

Harry paled. 

“Comforting,” I said.

“Don’t worry, Peppy,” George said, shoving me. “You’ll be fine.”

Before I could reply, we mounted our brooms and entered the pitch. We flew to our designated spots, and waited. I looked at the Slytherin Chasers. They were all boys, and they were nearly double my size. 

“Don’t worry,” Angelina Johnson, another Chaser said. “I know they seem huge, but they’re really a bunch of idiots.”

“Thanks.” 

“I want a nice, clean game. From all of you,” Madam Hooch said, glancing warily at the Slytherins. She kicked the trunk and the Bludgers shot out. 

“The Bludgers are out!” Lee Jordan announced. He was also a Gryffindor, and he was the commentator for all Quidditch matches. “And so is the Golden Snitch! Remember, the Snitch is worth 150 points and the Seeker who catches it ends the game!” 

The Snitch zoomed around and then disappeared. Madam Hooch grabbed the Quaffle, and held it above her head. I gripped my broom tightly, remembering Wood’s strategies. 

“And... the Quaffle is released!” 

I made a mad grab for the ball, and managed to catch it. I weaved in and out of the Slytherin Chasers, focusing solely on the hoops behind them. 

I suppose that being small was an advantage, because the other Chasers struggled to snatch the Quaffle out of my hands. As soon as I had a clear shot, I chucked the Quaffle at the hoops with all my might, and it went in. 

“Pepper Atkinson scores! 10 points to Gryffindor!” I pumped my fist into the air in excitement. 

“YES ATKINSON!” Fred yelled, waving his bat in the air. 

The Quaffle returned, but Slytherin was now in possession of it. I flew to the sides, waiting for an opportunity to sneak in. I saw Graham Montague flying towards our goalposts, on the lookout for stray Bludgers. Once I saw that he was distracted, I sped towards him and snatched the Quaffle out of his hands. 

“Atkinson takes possession of the Quaffle, and Montague is furious! You can practically see the steam coming out of his ears! Thank Merlin for that, because those sneaky Slytherins —”

“LEE!”

“Sorry McGonagall. Anyway…” 

I felt the players start to close in on me, so I tossed the Quaffle to Katie Bell, and she scored a goal for us. 

The game went on like that. We were in possession of the Quaffle for most of it, and the Slytherins were starting to get upset. They played dirty, trying any tricks to score a goal. But luckily, Wood was able to block all of them. 

Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Captain grew more and more frustrated. 

“Give me that,” he barked to a Beater. He snatched the bat from him, and pelted a Bludger at Wood. It hit him square in the stomach, and he fell to the ground in a heap.

“I can’t believe it! That stupid git Marcus Flint —”

“LEE!” 

“Fine. The Slytherin Captain just beat the living shi —”

“LEE JORDAN, IF YOU DON’T —”

“Alright, alright. In a shocking turn of events, Marcus Flint just knocked out Gryffindor Captain Oliver Wood…” 

The crowd booed, with the obvious exception of the Slytherins, who cheered like crazy. The Slytherins continued to play dirty, knocking out Angelina Johnson, and finally scoring a point. 

“Harry Potter’s broom is going crazy! Wonder what’s happening there,” Lee announced. 

I had to work twice as hard now that Angelina was out. Katie and I zigzagged through the players, trying to make more scores. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Harry zooming after the Snitch. But his broom went haywire, and he was being tossed around like a sack of potatoes. 

I focused back on the game, and narrowly missed a Bludger. I took the Quaffle from Katie and was about to throw it when Flint slammed into me. My broom went spinning backwards, and I nearly fell off. He laughed and sped off towards our goal with the Quaffle, scoring another point for Slytherin.

Meanwhile, Harry’s broom continued to malfunction. But in a few minutes, he was fine, and took off after the Snitch. I had the Quaffle in my possession, and I tossed it to Katie, whose attempt at a goal was blocked. I looked back down, and saw Harry reaching for the Snitch. He fell to the ground, and quickly stood up. 

“Potter looks like he’s going to be sick!” Lee shouted. 

Harry clutched his stomach and retched. But he didn’t vomit. Instead, he spit out the Golden Snitch, and the crowd went wild.

“Harry Potter has caught the Golden Snitch! 150 points to Gryffindor!” 

“Gryffindor wins!” Madam Hooch announced. 

The entire team flew down and congratulated each other. I stood there, savoring the moment. 

What was even better was the look on Marcus Flint’s face. 

∆ ∆ ∆

“Nonsense. Why would Snape put a curse on Harry’s broom?”

It was the afternoon, and we were all walking with Hagrid. Hermione and Ron told us that Snape had been the one hexing Harry’s broom during the match. I honestly wasn’t surprised, because if there’s anyone Snape hates more than Gryffindors, it’s Harry. We were talking to Hagrid about it to get his opinion on the situation. 

“Who knows?” Harry asked rhetorically. “Why was he trying to get past that three headed dog on Halloween?”

Hagrid stopped in his tracks. “Who told you about Fluffy?”

_ “Fluffy?”  _

“That thing has a name?” I questioned. 

“Well of course he’s got a name,” Hagrid replied. “He’s mine. Bought him off an Irish fella I met in a pub last year. I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the —”

“The what?” Harry pressed. 

Hagrid sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t ask any more questions about it. It’s top secret.”

“But Hagrid, whatever Fluffy’s guarding, Snape’s trying to steal!” Harry continued. 

“Codswallop. Snape is a Hogwarts teacher.” 

“Hogwarts teacher or not, I know a curse when I see one,” Hermione interjected. “You need to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn’t blinking.”

“Exactly,” Ron agreed.

“Now listen, you four,” Hagrid began. “You’re meddling in things that shouldn’t be meddled with. Whatever Fluffy’s guarding is strictly between Professor Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel.”

“Nicholas Flamel?” Harry questioned. 

Hagrid’s face paled. “I shouldn't have said that. I should not have said that.” He turned around and left us standing alone. 

“Nicholas Flamel. Who's Nicholas Flamel?” I asked. We all turned to Hermione. 

“I don't know.”

∆ ∆ ∆

It was Christmastime, and both Hermione and I were going home. I was excited to see my parents after being away for so long, but I was going to miss Hogwarts. It had become my home in such a short amount of time. I dragged my luggage to the Great Hall, and found Hermione talking to Harry and Ron. 

“I love chess!” I exclaimed. “My dad and I are really good at it. He’s actually —” 

I was interrupted by Hermione. “That's totally barbaric!” she exclaimed as a piece of their chess game broke another piece. 

“That's wizard's chess,” Ron replied, eyeing our luggage. “I see you've packed.”

“See you haven't,” I answered. 

“Change of plans. My parents decided to go to Romania to visit my brother, Charlie. He's studying dragons there.”

“Dragons? Wicked!” 

“Good,” Hermione replied. “You can help Harry, then. He's going to go to the library for information on Nicholas Flamel.”

“We've looked a hundred times!” Ron protested. 

“Not in the restricted section. Happy Christmas.” She grabbed her bags. “Come on, Pepper.”

“I think we've had a bad influence on her,” Ron said as we walked away. 

We walked to the train station, where most of the students were gathered. Only a few students stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays. We found an empty compartment, and sat down. We were exchanging stories about home when I excused myself to go to the bathroom. On my way back, I bumped into Malfoy. He was pretty upset that Gryffindor had won, but me surviving the game really put him on edge. 

“Going home to your filthy Muggles, Atkinson?”

I scowled and tried to push past him, but he stepped in front of me. “What do you want?” I growled. 

“I asked you a question.”

“And I chose to ignore it.”

He sighed. “You have quite the attitude, don’t you? Living up to your name, I see.”

I suppressed a smile. “Guess you could say that. Now would you please let me through?”

“Not until you answer my question.”

I groaned. “God, it’s like you’re obsessed with me or something.”

He scoffed. “As if. I just wanted to remind you about the scum you are.”

“Consider it done,” I said, plastering a smile on my face. “Now will you let me go?”

“No.”

An idea popped into my head, and I grinned. “Fine.” I dramatically pulled up the sleeve of my shirt and grabbed Malfoy’s hand. He immediately recoiled. 

“Mudblood! What are you doing?”

“Move or I’ll do it again,” I threatened. I almost laughed at his terror. How silly it was to avoid someone because they were Muggle-born! It was like avoiding someone because they were from a different country. 

“Alright, alright. Just don’t touch me again. I don’t want your Mudblood germs.” He stepped to the side and I strolled past him, thoroughly pleased with my idea. 

As I was walking back, I bumped into another Slytherin. But luckily, he was one of the few that I tolerated. 

“Theo!”

“Hey Pepper! Excited for the holidays?”

“Very. I haven’t seen my parents in a long time, so I can’t wait to go back. You?”

“Me too. My mother always makes these special pies, and I’m really looking forward to eating one… or ten.” I laughed at this. “What do you normally do for Christmas? I assume it’s different from what Muggles do.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Actually, I think it’s almost the same thing. The only difference is that we use magic for decorations, and stuff like that. But we have the same routine. Dinner, presents, all of that.”

“Magical decorations?”

“My father bewitches toys so that they dance, and ornaments so that they sing songs when you touch them.”

“That’s so cool!”

He laughed. “It is. Maybe I could bring one back and show you.”

“Really? That’d be great!”

He nodded. “Of course. Anyway, I better get going. See you in a few weeks!”

“Bye, Theo!”

I made my way back to my compartment, and Hermione and I talked the entire ride home. She introduced me to her parents, and they were very nice people. I introduced her to my parents, and we went home. 

“That Hermione girl’s very nice,” Mum said as we got into the car. “Do you have any other friends?”

“Yes, but they stayed at school. Their names are Harry and Ron.”

“Do you like any of them?” Mum asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively. 

I groaned. “No! They’re like my brothers.”

“How about enemies?” Dad asked. “Any idiots there?”

“More than you’d think,” I replied. “But there’s this one prat in particular. He irks me.”

“What’s his name?”

“Draco Malfoy. He’s vile!”

Dad exchanged a glance with Mum. “You seem to have strong opinions. What did he do to you?”

“He got me detention on my first day, he calls me names, and he’s just a terrible human being in general.”

“You got detention? You never told us that.”

I bit my lip. “I may have forgotten to mention it…” 

“Why did you get detention?”

“I punched Draco Malfoy in the face.”

Dad whipped his head around. “You socked him?”

“He was being rude! I couldn’t help it!”

Dad snorted. “That’s my girl.”

∆ ∆ ∆

Being back home felt weird. It was odd not being able to use magic, or to heed the burst of activity. I had forgotten how quiet it was at home. 

But, it was great to be back. Bruce missed me terribly, and he wouldn’t leave my side the entire time I was home. Mum and Dad redid the living room, and we had brand-new couches and rugs. 

As for presents, I was spoiled this year. Mum and Dad bought me loads of sweets and clothes. I received a Chudley Cannons poster from Ron, a Quaffle from Hermione, and a bundle of sweets from Harry. I also got a Quidditch book from Fred and George, which I loved dearly. It had numerous strategies and plays that I knew would increase our chances of victory. 

Mum and Dad loved the deck of Self-Shuffling cards that I had gotten them. They were big poker players, and I knew this would prevent any arguments about unfair shuffling in the future. 

I spent a great deal of my break telling them all about my adventures at Hogwarts. They were most excited to hear about Quidditch. The sport was foreign to them, and I tried to explain it as best as I could. They were thrilled to hear that I was a good player, and I promised them that I’d have a picture taken to send home. 

The two weeks we had for break passed much too quickly. Soon, it was time to go back to school. And while I missed it, I didn’t want to leave my parents again. I had forgotten what it had been like at home, and I missed hearing Dad’s laughs as he watched the TV and I missed Mum’s cooking. 

I packed all of my things neatly, and found Bruce on my bed. 

“Sorry Bruce,” I said. “But I have to go back to school.”

He meowed softly, and rubbed his head against my arm. “I know, I know. I’m sorry!”

Bruce followed me downstairs as I dragged my trunk down the stairs, trying not to lose my balance. 

“Pepper?” Dad called. 

“I’m coming!”

“Where’s the cat?”

“Right behind me.”

“Bring him.”

I left my trunk in the living room and carried Bruce to the kitchen, where my parents were smiling. 

“Would you like to take Bruce with you?”

My eyes widened. “What?”

“Would you like to take Bruce with you?”

“But what about you?” I asked. “You’ll be lonely!”

“Lonely? We have each other,” Mum said. “Besides, all he does is sit in your room all day. It’s not healthy.”

I grinned. “Really? I can take him?”

“Really. Your school allows cats, right?”

“They do! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

I squeezed Bruce tightly. “You’re coming with me!”

We drove to the train station, and I hugged both of my parents tightly, not ready to be parted again. 

“I’ll miss you.”

“So will we. Now hurry up and get on that train. You don’t want to have to fly back.”

I giggled at their comment. “Bye.”

Bruce and I boarded the train. I wasted no time trying to find Hermione. I peeked through every compartment, until I saw her waving at me from a distance. 

“What is that you’re holding?” 

I turned to see Malfoy glaring at Bruce. 

“A cat.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“My house.”

He wrinkled his nose. “That’s one weird-looking cat.”

“Funny. You’re one weird-looking boy.”

His nostrils flared and he stepped closer to me. “What?”

“Careful, Malfoy,” I warned. “I’ve got extra Muggle germs on me right now. Wouldn’t want to get too close, now would you?”

He shot me a nasty look. 

“Unless you’re over that nonsense? Then by all means, come give me and Bruce a hug.”

“Bruce? Who the hell is Bruce?”

“My cat, you blithering idiot.”

“Whatever. See you later, Mudblood.”

I spun on my heel, not bothering to respond, and made my way to Hermione. 

“What was that about?” she asked. 

“Just Malfoy being Malfoy.”


	9. Celadon

_ Seek it out and ye shall find _

Hermione summoned us to the library. Apparently, she had made a discovery in our quest for knowledge about Nicholas Flamel. I sat with Harry and Ron while she looked for a book. 

“How could I be so stupid?” she asked herself as she lugged a textbook to our table. “I had you looking in the wrong section!” 

She dropped the book onto the table and began to flip through the thick pages. “I checked this out weeks ago for a bit of light reading —”

“This is light?” Ron questioned.

She shot him a glare. “Of course. Here it is! It says here that Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone!” 

“The what?” 

“Don’t any of you read?” Hermione pointed to a passage in the book and read aloud.  _ “The Philosopher's Stone is a legendary substance with astonishing powers. It will turn any metal into pure gold and it produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.”  _

“Immortal?” Ron asked rhetorically. 

“It means you’ll never die,” Hermione replied. 

“I know what it means!” Ron exclaimed. 

“Shh! Go on Hermione,” Harry said. 

_ “The only stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist, who last year celebrated his 665 _ _ th _ _ birthday!” _

“That must be what Fluffy is guarding on the 3 rd floor!” I said. “That's what's under the trapdoor! The Philosopher's Stone! But what would Snape want with it?”

“I dunno,” Ron answered. “Maybe he wants to be immortal.”

“Snape? Immortal? With all the black he wears and the way he acts, you’d think he wants to die,” I commented. 

“Maybe he wants gold?” Ron suggested, after laughing at my comment. 

“Why? So he can buy more black clothing? Use it as funds for the Gryffindor Hate Club?”

All three of them laughed. “I don’t think it really matters why he wants it,” Harry said after the laughter died down. “What matters is that he’ll do anything to get it.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

We decided to ask Hagrid about the Philosopher’s Stone. He definitely knew more than he was letting on, and we needed to know. 

We rushed to his hut immediately after our conversation in the library. Once we arrived, I knocked on the door. “Hagrid!” 

Hagrid opened the door. He wore an apron and a pair of oven mitts. “Oh, hello. Sorry, don’t wish to be rude, but I’m in no state to entertain today.” He slammed the door in our faces. 

“We know about the Philosopher's Stone!” Harry exclaimed. 

The door reopened immediately. “Oh.” 

“We think Snape's trying to steal it,” Harry continued as we walked inside the hut. 

“Snape? Blimey, Harry, you're not still on about him, are you?” 

“Hagrid, we know he's after the Stone. We just don't know why.”

“Snape is one of the teachers protecting the Stone! He's not about to steal it!”

“What?” Harry asked in clear disbelief. 

“You heard me. Come on, now, I'm a bit preoccupied today,” Hagrid said, and tried to usher us out the door.

“Wait a minute,” I interjected. “One of the teachers?” 

“Of course! There are other things defending the Stone, aren't there? Spells, enchantments,” Hermione blabbered.

“That's right. Waste of bloody time, if you ask me. Ain't no one gonna get past Fluffy. Not a soul knows how. Except for me and Dumbledore.” His face fell once he realized what he had said. “I shouldn't have told you that.” 

The cauldron by the fireplace started to shake. Hagrid hurried over, removed something from inside the cauldron, and placed it on the table in front of us.

“Uh, Hagrid, what exactly is that?” Harry asked.

“That? It's a —”

“I know what that is! But Hagrid, how did you get one?” Ron questioned. I stared at the round object in front of me. I had absolutely no idea what it was. 

“I won it off a stranger I met down at a pub. Seemed quite glad to be rid of it, as a matter of fact.”

The object rattled and cracked. Soon, a small animal emerged from inside what I now knew to be an egg. The animal extended a pair of wings and I couldn’t believe my eyes. 

“Is that a dragon?” I inquired.

“That's not just a dragon!” Ron effused. “That's a Norwegian Ridgeback! My brother Charlie works with these in Romania.” 

“Isn't he beautiful? Bless him, look. He knows his mummy. Hello, Norbert.”

_ “Norbert?” _

“Yeah, well, he's got to have a name, doesn't he?”

Norbert blew fire into Hagrid’s beard.

“He'll have to be trained up a bit, of course,” Hagrid denoted as he extinguished the fire on his facial hair. “But he’ll be fine soon.” He turned towards the window and frowned. “Who’s that?” 

I turned to see a familiar head of platinum blonde hair scurrying away. 

“Malfoy,” I groaned. 

We left immediately after spotting Malfoy. We were out past curfew, and we needed to rush back to the castle if we wanted to avoid detention. 

“Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon. He told me so the first time I met him,” Harry remarked as we walked away from Hagrid’s hut. 

“It's crazy. And worse, Malfoy knows,” Ron lamented. 

“I don't understand. Is that bad?” Harry questioned.

“It’s Malfoy,” I fumed. “When is it ever good?” 

We entered the castle and stopped speaking. We turned a corner, and were met with a furious pajama-clad McGonagall with a smug-looking Malfoy. 

“Good evening,” she drawled. The four of us exchanged glances, and wordlessly followed her to her classroom. Malfoy trailed behind us, wearing a gigantic smirk.

“Nothing, I repeat, nothing gives a student the right to walk about the school at night,” McGonagall scolded. “Therefore, as punishment for your actions, 50 points will be taken.”

“ _ 50?!”  _ Harry choked.

“ _ Each _ . And to ensure it doesn't happen again, all five of you will receive detention.”

Malfoy’s smug expression quickly faltered. “Excuse me, Professor, perhaps I heard you wrong. I thought you said the  _ five _ of us.”

“No, you heard me correctly, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall confirmed. “You see, as honorable as your intentions were, you too were out of bed after hours. You will serve detention with your classmates.” 

Malfoy scowled, and the four of us stifled laughter.

“He tried,” I said to everyone. “He really did.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

Detention was set for a week from the day of our offense, which just so happened to be my 12th birthday.

Happy birthday to me. 

Harry and Ron got me a Chudley Cannons jumper, and Hermione got me a book about famous Quidditch players. Fred and George gave me sweets, and Mrs. Weasley sent me loads of baked goods. And Theo, as promised, gifted me a magical ornament. It was bewitched to sing a song if I tapped it twice. Overall, it was a good day. 

Until detention, of course. 

We were led to detention by Filch. It was an unbearable experience for two reasons. Firstly, Malfoy complained the entire time, and I came extremely close to socking him in the face again since he got us in this mess in the first place. Secondly, Filch would not stop lamenting about the lack of torture for students. 

“Pity they let the old punishments die,” he grumbled. “There was a time detention would find you hanging by your thumbs in the dungeons. God, I miss the screaming.” He turned to us. “You'll be serving detention with Hagrid tonight. He's got a little job to do inside the Forbidden Forest.”

Hagrid walked up to us with Fang at his side. 

“Sorry about this lot, Hagrid,” Filch apologized. He scowled once he saw Hagrid’s crestfallen expression. “Oh, good God, you're not  _ still _ on about that bloody dragon, are you?”

Hagrid sniffed. “Norbert's gone. Dumbledore sent him off to Romania to live in a colony.

“Well, that's good, isn't it? He'll be with his own kind,” Hermione consoled. 

“Yeah, but what if he doesn't like Romania?” I saw Filch roll his eyes at Hagrid’s worries.

“What if the other dragons are mean to him? He's only a baby, after all.”

“Oh, for God's sake, pull yourself together, man. You're going into the forest, after all. Got to have your wits about you.”

“The forest?” Malfoy’s eyes widened. “I thought that was a joke! We can't go in there. Students aren't allowed. And there are… werewolves, aren’t there?”

“There's more than werewolves in those trees, lad. You can be sure of that,” Filch chortled and walked away.

“Right,” Hagrid said blankly. “Let's go.” 

We walked silently to the forest. I wasn’t entirely sure what we were looking for, but Hagrid seemed determined in scanning the floor. Ten minutes into our expedition, he bent down and inspected a silver puddle. 

“Hagrid, what's that?” Harry asked. 

“What we're here for. See that?” Hagrid held up his hand, which was coated in a thick, silvery substance. “That's unicorn blood. I found one dead a few weeks ago. Now, this one's been injured badly by something, so it's our job to find the poor beast. Ron, Hermione, Pepper, you'll come with me. Harry, you’ll go with Malfoy.”

“Fine. But we get Fang!” Malfoy demanded. 

“Fine. But just so you know, he's a bloody coward.” 

We separated, and looked for the unicorn. Not five minutes later, we heard a high-pitched scream.

“What was that?” Ron asked with a shaky voice. 

“It sounded like a scream,” I noted. The scream grew closer and closer until we saw Malfoy running towards us with Fang. 

“Malfoy, what happened?” Hagrid pressed.

“My father  _ will _ be hearing about this!” he shouted. His face was bright red. “I was almost killed! There’s —”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “Where’s Harry?”

Malfoy shrugged. “There —”

“You left him there?”

“I didn’t have the time to drag Potter halfway across the forest, Atkinson!”

“Hagrid, we need to go get Harry! Come on!” 

We ran across the forest, and found Harry talking with a strange species of horse. It had the body of a horse, but the upper torso of a human. Next to them was the corpse of a unicorn. 

“Woah,” Hermione gasped. “A centaur!” 

“Hello there, Firenze. I see you've met our young Mr. Potter,” Hagrid said politely. “You alright there, Harry?”

Harry nodded and Firenze turned to him. 

“Harry Potter, this is where I leave you. You're safe now. Good luck.” With that, he galloped away. 

“Well there’s the dead unicorn,” Malfoy blurted. “Can we go now?”

∆ ∆ ∆

The walk back to the castle was worse than the walk to the forest. Malfoy would not stop complaining about his near-death experience.

“My father is going to be furious,” he expressed. “Servant’s work! We were doing servant’s work!”

“Oh shut up!” I groaned. “We get it, you’re mad.”

He scoffed. “Of course you wouldn’t understand. You didn’t almost die there. You were all safe and sound with Hagrid!” 

“Well you didn’t die. You’re fine. Stop whining.” 

“You sound upset.”

I snorted. “Nice observation.”

“Is it because I almost died? I knew you’d miss me.”

“You wish! This is just not how I wanted to spend my birthday.”

“It’s your birthday? You’re 12?”

I nodded.

“How does it feel?”

“The same.” 

“I’m sure that your day is better because of me.”

“Sure.” 

“It’s time you admit it, Atkinson. Nobody can resist the Malfoy charm.”

I laughed. “Whatever floats your boat.”

“What does that even mean?”

I laughed again. “It’s a Muggle expression, Pureprat. You wouldn’t like it.”

“If it’s Muggle related, of course I won’t like it. But I want to know what it means.”

“It’s like saying ‘whatever makes you happy.’”

“Hmm. Interesting.” 

We arrived back at the castle at that time. 

“What an interesting detention,” Hagrid announced. “I’ll see you all later.”

“Thank Merlin that’s over,” Malfoy sighed. “You’re annoying?”

“ _ I’m annoying? _ Really?” I sighed. “Whatever. I’m just glad to be rid of you.”

“Trust me, Mud. The feeling is mutual.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

Once we were in the safety of our common room, Harry told us everything that happened in the forest. 

“So you mean to tell me that You-Know-Who’s really out there?” Hermione asked. “He’s in the forest?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, but he’s weak. He’s living off the unicorns. Don’t you see? Snape doesn’t want the stone for himself. He wants it for Voldemort. With the Elixir of Life, he’ll be strong again. He’d be able to come back.” 

“But if he comes back, you don’t think he’ll try to kill you, do you?” Ron questioned. 

“I think if he had the chance, he would have killed me tonight,” Harry answered confidently. “So I guess it’s a good thing that Malfoy ran away screaming.” 

I shook my head. “Bloody coward.”

There was a silence as we thought about Harry’s  _ real _ near-death experience. 

“Hang on a minute,” Hermione said. “We’re forgetting one thing. Who’s the one wizard Voldemort’s always feared?”

I shrugged. “Don’t ask me. All I really know about this creep is that he tried to kill Harry and that he’s evil.”

“Dumbledore!” Hermione articulated. “As long as Dumbledore’s around, you’ll be safe. As long as Dumbledore’s around, you can’t be touched.” 

We went to bed after that, but I couldn’t get Voldemort out of my mind. 

“Hermione,” I whispered. “Hermione!” 

“What?” she asked groggily. 

“I can’t sleep. Do you have any books about Voldemort?” 

“Yes. They’re on my bedside table.”

“Thanks.” I picked up a book that was specifically about him and began reading it.

He was more horrifying than I originally thought. He wanted to eradicate all Muggle-borns because he, much like Draco Malfoy, believed in pureblood supremacy. He gathered a group of followers called Death Eaters, and they tortured and killed loads of people. Muggles, Muggle-borns, and blood traitors, or purebloods who accepted Muggle-borns. I grew increasingly terrified with each page, but my terror turned to sadness once I got to the section on Harry and his parents. 

Voldemort killed James and Lily Potter out of cold blood. They were fighting against him, and he decided to eliminate them. What I didn’t know is that he also killed a third person. Lily Potter was pregnant with her second child, a girl. This was discovered after they searched their house after their death. They found a bundle of girls’ baby clothes, and a few dolls lying around. 

Voldemort tried to kill Harry, but for some unknown reason, the curse didn’t work. Voldemort disappeared, and Harry was left with a lightning bolt scar, the title of The Boy Who Lived, and no family. 

I shut the book and thought about what I had just read. What kind of tyrant did that? Why did he do that? What did he want to gain?

I fell asleep with all of my questions unanswered. 


	10. Isabelline

_ Some legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold, but you will remember me for centuries  _

“I've always heard Hogwarts' end of the year exams were frightful, but I found that rather enjoyable,” Hermione said after our last exam. I disagreed, but that was mostly due to the fact that I wasn’t an excellent student. 

“Speak for yourself,” Ron murmured. “All right there, Harry?

Harry gripped his forehead. “My scar,” he groaned. “It keeps burning.”

“It's happened before,” Hermione said calmly. 

“Not like this.”

“You should see Madam Pomfrey,” I suggested. “I bet she has something that can help.”

“No, I don’t think so. I think it's a warning. It means dangers coming.” He massaged his forehead, but stopped once he saw Hagrid. He seemed to have an epiphany. “Of course! 

“What?”

“Don't you think it's a bit odd that what Hagrid wants more than anything is a dragon, and a stranger shows up and just happens to have one?” Harry asked. “I mean, how many people wander around with dragon eggs in their pockets? Why didn't I see it before?”

We reached Hagrid, and he was busy playing a flute. “Hagrid, who gave you the dragon egg? What did he look like?” Harry interrogated. 

“I don't know. I never saw his face. He kept his hood up.”

“The stranger, though, you must have talked.”

“Well, he wanted to know what sort of creatures I looked after. I told that I wouldn’t have a problem with a dragon since I’ve been taking care of Fluffy.”

“And did he seem interested in Fluffy?”

“Well, of course he was interested in Fluffy! How often do you come across a three headed dog, even if you're in the trade?” Hagrid exclaimed. “But I told him the trick to any beast is to know how to calm him. Take Fluffy for example. Just play him a little music and he falls right asleep!”

The four of us gaped at him. We took off, ignoring his questions. 

We ran all the way to McGonagall’s classroom, where she sat grading exams.

“We have to see Professor Dumbledore, immediately!” Harry demanded. 

“I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore is not here,” McGonagall replied calmly. “He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and left immediately for London.”

“He's  _ gone? _ Now? But this is important! It's about the Philosopher's Stone!”

McGonagall looked shocked. “How do you know —”

“Someone's going to try and steal it.”

“I don't know how you four found out about the stone, but I can assure you it is perfectly well-protected. Now would you go back to your dormitories?”

It was clear that McGonagall wasn’t going to budge. We retreated into the hallway. 

“That was no stranger Hagrid met in the village. It was Snape, which means he knows how to get past Fluffy,” Harry said. 

“And with Dumbledore gone,” Hermione began. She was about to continue, but she stopped once Snape approached us. 

“Good afternoon,” he drawled. “Now, what would four young Gryffindors such as yourselves be doing inside on a day like this?”

“We were just…” I trailed off. 

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You want to be careful. People will think you're… 

up to something.” He stalked off. 

“Now what do we do?” Ron asked. 

“We go down the trapdoor,” Harry whispered. “Tonight.”

∆ ∆ ∆

Once everyone was asleep, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I crept across the common room, trying to make as little noise as possible. We stopped once we heard croaking. 

“Trevor,” I whispered. 

“Trevor shh!” Ron scolded. “Go, you shouldn't be here!”

“Neither should you.” I jumped, and turned to see Neville sitting in an armchair. “You're sneaking out again, aren't you?”

“Now, Neville, listen,” Harry began. “We were —”

“No! I won't let you!” He exclaimed, standing up. “You'll get Gryffindor in trouble again! I-I'll fight you.” He held out two tiny fists. 

Hermione sighed. “Neville, I'm really, really sorry about this.” She took out her wand and pointed it at Neville.  _ “Petrificus Totalus!” _

Neville froze and fell to the floor as stiff as a board. Hermione put her wand away and stepped over him. 

Ron gulped. “You're a little scary sometimes, you know that? Brilliant, but scary.”

“Let's go,” Harry said. “Sorry.”

“Sorry, Neville,” I added. 

“It's for your own good, you know,” Ron said. 

We escaped using Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. It had belonged to his father, and he had received it for Christmas. We unlocked the door and quietly crept in. 

“Wait a minute,” I said, yanking the cloak off. “He’s already asleep.”

“Snape's already been here,” Harry concluded. “He's put a spell on the harp.” 

We approached the dog, who was snoring loudly. 

“It's got horrible breath!” Ron complained. 

“We have to move its paw,” Harry whispered. 

_ “What?” _

“Come on, just do it!” We grabbed the ridiculously large paw and moved it aside. We now had the trapdoor unblocked. 

“I'll go first,” Harry said. “Don't follow until I give you a sign. If something bad happens, get yourselves out, and —”

“Sorry to interrupt,” I blurted. “But doesn’t it seem a bit quiet to you?”

Hermione let out a small gasp. “The harp. It stopped playing.”

A monstrous glob of droll fell onto Ron’s shoulder. He groaned in disgust as he wiped it off. Slowly, we all turned to see Fluffy standing before us, completely awake. We all jumped through the trap door, and landed in some sort of weird netting. 

“Lucky this plant-thing is here,” Ron remarked. He was wrong. The plant started to tie us up, and it got worse as we moved. 

“Stop moving,” Hermione ordered. “This is Devil's Snare. You have to relax. If you don't, it will only kill you faster.”

“Kill us faster? Oh, now I can relax!” Ron shouted. 

Hermione laid completely still, and she was soon sucked underneath the mass of vines. 

“Hermione!” We yelled. 

“Now what are we gonna do?” Ron moaned. 

“Just relax!” Hermione instructed from below. 

“Hermione! Where are you?”

“Do what I say. Trust me.”

I relaxed my muscles as much as I could. Slowly but surely, I felt myself slipping through the vines. I fell down next to Hermione, and Harry soon joined us. 

“Harry! Pepper!”

“Are you okay?” she asked us. I nodded. 

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Harry said. 

“Help!” Ron screamed. 

“He's not relaxing, is he?”

“Apparently not,” I replied. 

“Help!”

“We've got to do something!” I said. 

“What?” Harry asked. 

Hermione paced back and forth. “I remember reading something in Herbology. Devil's Snare… it's deadly fun… but will sulk in the sun!” she exclaimed. “That's it! Devil's Snare hates sunlight!  _ Lumos Solem! _ ”

The plant withered at the sight of the light, and Ron tumbled through. 

“Ron, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Lucky we didn't panic!” 

“Lucky Hermione pays attention in Herbology,” Harry said. There was a loud, fluttering noise. 

“What is that?”

“I don't know. Sounds like wings.”

We walked into the next room, which was filled with golden keys. They had wings attached to them, and they fluttered around. 

“Curious. I've never seen birds like these,” Hermione remarked. 

“They're not birds, they're keys,” I said. “And I'll bet one of them fits that door.”

We tried using Alohomora, but the door wouldn’t budge. Hermione groaned in frustration. 

“What are we going to do? There must be 1000 keys up there!”

“We're looking for a big old fashioned one. Probably rusty like the handle,” Ron said. We looked around and I saw a rusty key with a broken wing. 

“There! I see it!” I pointed at it. “The one with the broken wing!”

Harry looked at the key, and at the broomstick near it. 

“What's wrong, Harry?”

“It's too simple.”

“Oh, go on, Harry! If Snape can catch it on that old broomstick, you can! You're the youngest seeker in a century!” Ron reminded him. 

Harry nodded and grabbed the broom. As soon as he touched the broom, the keys went flying.

“Well, this complicates things a bit!” Ron shouted. Harry mounted the broom and flew after the key. Soon, different keys started to pelt him, and he couldn’t reach it. There was another broom nearby, and I didn’t hesitate to grab it and fly up to help Harry.

I flew to the section where the keys were and managed to grab it. I threw it across the room to Harry, who caught it and unlocked the door. We ran as fast as we could, shutting the door behind us and hearing the noise of keys hitting the door. 

We entered an eerie room. There was rubble all over the place, and weird statues standing on a checkerboard. 

“I don't like this,” Hermione muttered. “I don't like this at all.”

“Where are we? A graveyard?” Harry asked. 

“This is no graveyard,” Ron answered. “It's a chessboard.”

“There’s the door,” I said, walking across the board. Suddenly, a pawn threatened us with a sword, and we jumped back. 

“Now what do we do?”

“It's obvious, isn't it? We've got to play our way across the room. Harry, you take the Bishop's square. Hermione, you'll be the Queen's side castle. Pepper, you and I will both be knights.”

We took our places, and I studied the board, trying to think of a move. 

“What happens now?” Hermione asked. 

“Well, white moves first, and then we play.”

A pawn on the other side moved forward. I looked at the set-up, and remembered a move that my father had taught me. 

_ “Look, Pepper,” he said, motioning to the chessboard. “The best way to startle your opponent is to use some aggressive moves.” _

_ “Like what?” I asked.  _

_ “Like this. Look.” He moved a pawn forward. “You need to lock them in from the beginning. This catches them off guard.”  _

_ “How?” _

_ “If I move this pawn forward, black can take it. But it leaves them vulnerable. Then, you can sneak in and take the center. Do you see that?” _

_ I stared at the board, and then nodded. “Yes. What is it called?” _

_ Dad smiled. “The King’s Gambit. It’s a bit outdated, but it’s my go-to.” _

_ “The King’s Gambit,” I repeated. “Got it.” _

“Ron!” I yelled from my spot. “What are you going to do?”

“Take his pawn!” he yelled back. 

“No! Don’t do that! It’s an attack.”

“Huh?”

“It’s an attack. They’re setting you up with the King’s Gambit! He sacrifices a pawn, but then your center is exposed. Do you see?”

Ron studied the board. “Yes. So I should —”

“You should reject it. Play the Falkbeer Counter Gambit. It’ll —”

“It’ll let us prepare an attack! White’s Kingside is already weak. So by moving the pawn, two diagonals are opened up, and you can prepare an attack! Brilliant!” He pointed to a piece. “You there! Move to D-5!”

We continued to play the game, using the best strategies we could come up with. Unsurprisingly, this game of chess turned out to be like the wizarding version.

The Queen turned again, and Ron glanced at me. We both knew what was coming next. 

“Wait a minute,” Harry realized. 

“You understand right, Harry. Once I make my move, the Queen will take me, then you'll be free to check the King.”

“Ron, no!” 

“What is it?” Hermione asked. 

“He's going to sacrifice himself!” 

“No, you  _ can't! _ There must be another way!” 

“Do you want to stop Snape or not? Harry, it's you that has to go on. I know it. Not me, not Hermione, not Pepper,  _ you _ .”

“He’s right,” I said hoarsely. 

Harry nodded and Ron took a deep, shaky breath. “Knight to H-3.” 

Ron's piece moved forward, and stopped. 

“Check.”

The Queen turned and smashed Ron’s piece. He flew off screaming before landing on the side of the board, unconscious. 

“Ron!” Hermione started walking towards him.

“Don’t move!” I yelled. “We’re still playing!” 

“Checkmate,” Harry whispered. The King’s sword fell to the ground, and we won. 

“Take care of Ron,” Harry ordered. “Get help. Send a message to Dumbledore. Ron's right. I have to go on.” 

“You'll be okay, Harry. You're a great wizard, you really are,” Hermione consoled. 

“Not as good as you.”

“Me? Books and cleverness? There are more important things. Friendship, and bravery.”

I smiled weakly and hugged Harry. “Be careful, okay? Hermione will stay with Ron while I go run for help.”

He nodded. “Okay. Here I go.”

He walked slowly to the door, opened it, and disappeared.

“I’ll be back,” I said to Hermione, and ran out of the room. I rushed past the keys, climbed up the Devil’s Snare, and whistled to keep Fluffy asleep. I sprinted to McGonagall’s office and pounded on the door. 

“Miss Atkinson, what is the mean–” She stopped as soon as she saw the cuts on my arms. “What happened to you?”

“The stone!” I gasped. “We were trying to save the stone! You have to come quickly! There’s —”

“What seems to be the issue?” Snape asked, approaching us in his black dressing gown. 

My mouth fell open. “Wait, what? What are you doing here?”

He rolled his eyes. “I happen to live here, Atkinson, and I couldn’t sleep with your yammering.”

“Severus, the stone,” McGonagall said. “It’s been compromised.”

“How do you know?”

“I was just there,” I explained. “Someone was right in front of us, though. When is Dumbledore coming back? We need Dumbledore!” 

“What do you need me for?” Dumbledore asked, appearing out of nowhere. 

“The stone!” I yelled, not bothering to be quiet anymore. “Someone’s trying to take the stone! Harry’s down there right now, and he’s up against someone–I don’t know who– and —”

“Relax, Miss Atkinson,” Dumbledore interrupted. “You’ve done your part well. I will go down there immediately.”

“And Ron’s injured! Hermione’s down there with him! I’ll come with you!” 

“You will do no such thing,” Snape quipped. “You will go to the Hospital Wing for those cuts.”

“But —”

“No buts, Miss Atkinson,” McGonagall interjected. “He’s right. He’ll escort you.”

Snape didn’t seem to be too pleased about this decision, but he took me to the Hospital Wing nonetheless. We walked in silence. 

“How did you know about the stone?” he asked after a few minutes. 

I wasn’t really sure what to say, especially since I didn’t want to get Hagrid into any trouble. “It was an accident,” I said after a few minutes’ deliberation. 

“An accident? Then how did you know how to get there and what to do?”

I gulped. “Research.”

“Research? You mean to tell me that you found out how to get past the three headed dog through a library book?”

“You’d be surprised in the quality of our library, sir.”

“Interesting. Just like —” He stopped speaking. 

“Just like what?”

He curled his lip. “You’re exactly like a Gryffindor.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. I thought all houses were good.”

“You misunderstand me, Miss Atkinson. I simply noted that you are as Gryffindor as they come.” 

“Okay…” 

We reached the door of the Hospital Wing. “I’ll leave you here. Try not to cause anymore trouble.”

“I hardly think saving the stone can be considered trouble.”

“We have different definitions of trouble, then. Goodnight, Miss Atkinson.” 

I walked into the Hospital Wing, where Madam Pomfrey was able to heal my cuts fairly quickly. I waited patiently for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 

∆ ∆ ∆

I woke up hours later, and found all of my friends asleep on nearby beds. I was about to go back to sleep when a commotion outside. 

“Oh not again!” I heard Madam Pomfrey groan.

“It’s not my fault Crabbe talks in his sleep!” 

“Bed 7, please.”

I poked my head out of the curtains and laughed out loud when I saw Malfoy with a bright red nose. 

“Can it, Mudblood,” he snarled. 

“What happened to you, Rudolph?” 

“Crabbe hexes people in his sleep. That idiot sleeps with his wand and talks in his sleep. And how daft are you? My name’s not  _ Rudolph _ .”

“I know your name isn’t Rudolph! It’s a reference.”

“To what?”

“A Muggle Christmas story. Rudolph is a reindeer who gets bullied for having a red nose.”

Malfoy scowled. “That’s not funny.”

“Rudolph getting bullied isn’t funny. But your nose sure is.”

“Would you like to switch places?” he snapped. “Because I can’t even smell anything.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Why are you even here anyway? There’s no cure to being a Mudblood, you know.” 

“That’s not why I’m here,” I huffed. “For your information, I was in the third floor corridor.”

He frowned. “That’s forbidden. Why were you there?”

“We needed to save the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“The Philosopher’s Stone? Why would that be here?”

“Dumbledore needed it somewhere safe. Anyway, someone tried to take it tonight.”

“Did they?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I had to go get help and get my injuries healed.”

“What happened to you?”

“Just a few cuts on my arms and legs. Nothing too bad.”

“Hmm. Well that’s good, isn’t it.”

“Yeah.” I paused. “Wait, why do you care? Don’t you hate me?”

“Of course I hate you, Atkinson. But if you died, who would I bully? You’re the best Mudblood.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks.” 

“Don’t let that get to your head,” he grumbled. “I still hate you. It just means that you’re the easiest target.” 

“But I’m the  _ best  _ Mudblood,” I teased, smiling. “That’s gotta mean something.” 

“Whatever floats your boat.” 


	11. Xanthic

_ These are the nights that never die  _

In a shocking turn of events, Professor Quirrell was the person who was trying to steal the stone. Stuttering, nervous, Professor Quirrell! Hermione, Ron and I were shocked, to say the least. 

He had been trying to get the stone for Voldemort, _ who was living on the back of his head.  _ How many times had I been looking at the back of Quirrell’s head, not knowing that Voldemort was underneath his turban. Voldemort had been watching us the entire year. It sent shivers down my spine. 

Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel decided to destroy the stone. It was for the best, after all. But according to Harry, this wasn’t the only way Voldemort could come back. So we had to be extra careful. 

After we were dismissed from the Hospital Wing, we went straight to the Great Hall for the end of term feast. My face fell once I saw the green banners dangling from the ceiling. 

Annoyed, I sunk into my seat just as Dumbledore started to make his speech. 

“Another year gone. And now as I understand it, the House Cup needs awarding. In last place, we have Gryffindor with 312 points. Third place is Hufflepuff with 352. In second place is Ravenclaw with 426 points, and in first place, we have Slytherin with 522 points.”

There was immense cheering from the other side of the table. I could see Malfoy’s smug grin from across the hall and I clapped dully, not wanting to be rude.

“Yes, well done, Slytherin, well done. However, recent events must be taken into consideration. I have a few last minute points to award. To Miss Hermione Granger, for the use of cool intellect when others are in great peril, 50 points.”

Hermione grinned as the hall clapped furiously for her. 

“Second, to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best played game of chess this school has seen in many years. 50 points.” 

Ron looked like he was about to burst with pride. His brothers congratulated him by slapping him on the back. 

“Third, to Miss Pepper Atkinson for her skilled Quidditch moves and nice use of the Falkbeer Counter Gambit. Well done. 50 points.” 

I flushed as Fred and George patted me on the back. 

“Our favorite first year earns us some points!” 

“And to Mr. Harry Potter, I award 60 points for pure nerve and outstanding courage.”

“We’re tied with Slytherin!” I exclaimed. 

“And finally, it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal of courage to stand up to your friends. I award 10 points to Neville Longbottom.”

The Gryffindor table exploded with glee. We threw our hats in the air and celebrated as Dumbledore changed the banners to represent Gryffindor. I noticed Malfoy sulking, but ignored him as I continued to congratulate my friends. 

We ate and talked with a newfound freedom. We were safe from worrying about the stone, and about Voldemort for now. 

So we enjoyed the moment, letting it consume us wholly. 

∆ ∆ ∆

I sat in front of Ron, and we were in the middle of a chess game. 

“So what’s your go-to opening?” he asked. “And how do you know all this? These are some pretty fancy moves.” 

“My dad’s a really good chess player. He’s actually an International Master.”

“A what?” 

“It’s a Muggle thing. It’s a title for chess players. There’s a whole bunch of requirements for it, but basically, he’s really good at chess.”

“I knew your surname sounded familiar,” Hermione declared. “Your dad’s William Atkinson!” 

I nodded. “He’s a chess prodigy. He started when he was 8, and he’s working to become a Grandmaster. He taught me when I was young, and even though I’m not as good as him, I think I’m still pretty good at it.”

“Good? You’re brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “Now answer my question! I need to learn so I can beat Percy this summer!” 

“My go-to opening is the Marshall Attack. Basically, you—”

“Anything from the trolley?”

I pulled a few coins out of my pocket. “Can I have 4 Chocolate Frogs please?”

I paid for the candy and handed everyone a box. They chimed their thanks. 

I taught Ron the Marshall Attack, the Queen’s Gambit, the Sicilian Defense, the Scotch Game, and I was about to teach him the Italian game when Bruce hopped off my lap. 

“Bruce!” I yelled. He snuck out of the compartment and sprinted down the corridor. “Bruce! I’ll be back.”

I stepped into the hall and saw a blur of orange fur. “Bruce! Bloody cat. Bruce!” 

I chased him across the entire train twice. He seemed to think that we were playing a game, and only increased his speed. Luckily, he was captured before he could make his third lap. 

“Careful there, Peppy,” Fred said, scooping up an angry Bruce. “Wouldn’t want to lose this bundle of joy.”

He handed me Bruce, who was now quite calm. “Now you’re calm,” I muttered. “He made me chase him through the entire train twice.”

Fred laughed. “I know. I made him.”

“Why? My legs hurt so bad.”

“We need you.”

“And you couldn’t just come find me like a normal person?”

“No. Come in.”

I walked into his compartment and sat across George, who was enjoying what seemed to be a white Chocolate Frog.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Peppermint Toad. Want one?”

“Sure. Thanks.” I popped the candy into my mouth. It was ten times better than a Chocolate Frog. I savored the flavor of sweet mint. “That’s amazing!” 

“I know. Much better than Chocolate Frogs.” He paused. “What are you doing here?”

I shrugged. “Good question. Fred?”

“Our ickle Peppermint Toad is here to help us with our prank,” Fred replied. 

George’s eyes lit up. “Right!” 

“Prank? On who?”

“We had a bit of a row with that Slytherin git Miles Bletchley. We need you to help us get our revenge.”

“Ugh,  _ him? _ He’s probably one of my least favorite Slytherins. What did he do? I’ll help, but I’m just curious.”

“He told Snape about one of our pranks. We got weeks of detention.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“We need you to put this in his pocket,” George quipped, tossing me a firework. “And make sure that he sits down.”

“Won’t it blow him up?”

“No. It will give him a scare though. He won’t expect you to do it. He’ll expect us, but not you.”

“Okay, but how do I get it into his pocket?”

“I dunno. Look, there he is now! Go!” 

They pushed me out of the compartment, and I rammed straight into Miles Bletchley’s chest. I took that opportunity to shove the explosive in the pocket of his robe. 

“Mudblood!” he roared. “Watch where you’re going!” 

“Sorry, Bletchley. I tripped.”

“I don’t care! You’ve infected me with your germs.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I knew I needed him to sit down in order to activate the firework, but I didn’t know how. Bletchley started to walk away, and I followed him from a distance. Soon, an idea popped into my head. 

I ran up to him as quickly as I could, and kicked the back of his knee. He fell to the ground and I sped away from him, hearing the firework go off. Moments later, he screamed. 

“Way to go, Atkinson!” George shouted gleefully. We watched as red smoke emerged from his pocket, and as his friends tried to help him. “That’ll teach him.”

Fred turned to me. “You’re a natural. I reckon you’ll be helping us more often.”

∆ ∆ ∆

When we arrived at Kings’ Cross, Ron was extremely excited. 

“I can’t wait to put these moves to use. Percy’s going to be furious! He hates losing!” 

I smiled. “I’ll ask my dad for more tricks and I’ll teach you them if you like.”

“I’d love that! You know, you should come and stay at my house this summer! Maybe a few weeks before school starts!” 

“That sounds great! Just write to me, and I’ll be there!” 

We grabbed our luggage and stood at the Platform. I hugged everyone goodbye.

“I can’t believe we’re going home,” Hermione sighed. 

“We’re not going home,” Harry replied. “Not really.”

“Harry’s right,” I added. “Hogwarts is our home now.” 

“Promise to write?” Harry asked us.

“Promise,” we replied. 

After saying our goodbyes, I went to find my parents. We drove home, and I told them all about the stone. 

I stared out the window, watching as the station got smaller and smaller. 

I couldn’t wait to go back.


	12. Coquelicot

_ Find a balance in the middle of the chaos  _

“Pepper! Owl!” 

I rushed downstairs and opened the living room window. An ancient-looking owl flew in, flopping down on our window seat. 

“Jesus Christ did that thing just die?” Mum shouted. 

I poked the bird and it slowly stood up. “No.” 

“Your friend needs a new bird, Pep,” Dad commented. 

“Don’t rag on Errol! He’s got sentimental value!” 

“From who? Their great-grandparents?”

I snorted, and opened the letter.

_ Pepper, _

_ I really hope that Errol didn’t die on the way there. He looks like he’s only got days left. If he faints, just give him a good smack. He should be fine after that. Oh, and give him some water. He might be dehydrated.  _

_ Anyway, I’m writing to invite you to the Burrow. I’ve also invited Harry and Hermione. We would pick you up next Monday, and you’d stay with us until school started. Is this okay?  _

_ Oh and have you heard from Harry? I’ve written to him all summer, but he hasn’t replied. I reckon it’s those horrid Muggles of his. Harry did tell us that they were cruel.  _

_ Anyway, I hope that you’re having a good summer. I can’t wait to learn more chess. You should have seen Percy’s face when I beat him using the Sicilian. He nearly cried!  _

_ Ron  _

I wondered if Ron was right. Would Harry’s relatives really hide his letters? I resolved to find his phone number. Maybe I could call him. I walked into the kitchen and filled a bowl with water. I placed it next to Errol’s shaking body. 

“Mum? Dad? I have a question.”

“No, you can’t buy cigarettes,” Mum replied quickly. “Get cigars. They’re cooler.”

I giggled. “No, no that. My friend Ron’s asked me if I want to stay at his house until school starts. Would that be alright?”

“How would you get there?”

“He said that he’d come pick me up on Friday.”

“That’s fine. We should make something for his family as a thank you. Do they like pie?”

“Probably.”

“I like Ron,” Dad said. “He’s the one who likes chess, right?”

I nodded. “He and Hermione think you’re so cool.”

“Not Harry? That little shit.”

“Harry doesn’t really know much about chess, Dad. Plus, you are cool. And that’s what matters.”

“You’re so wise, Pepper.”

I smacked his arm. “Shut up. I’m going to write a quick response and send Errol on his way.”

“Will he make it?” Mum probed.

“It’s not likely.” 

I ran upstairs and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. 

_ Ron, _

_ No, I haven’t heard from Harry. I’ll try to get his phone number and call him. And yes, I’d love to spend the rest of break with you. I’m looking forward to Friday.  _

_ I gave Errol some water, but I don’t know if he’ll make it.  _

_ And I’m glad to hear about the chess stuff. Dad’s taught me some new tricks, and you’ll love them.  _

_ See you soon! _

_ Pepper  _

I rolled up the letter and tied it onto Errol’s leg. After a good push, Errol flew crookedly into the air, slower than a snail. 

“Do we have a phonebook?” 

“What for?” Dad asked. 

“I need to find Harry’s phone number. He hasn’t written to us all summer, and we need to make sure that he’s okay.”

“Maybe he’s just busy.”

“Maybe. But I want to make sure.”

“I think it’s in the attic.”

I climbed up the stairs to our dusty attic and found a thick, yellowing phonebook. I flipped the pages straight to the D’s, looking for the name Dudley Dursley. I wasn’t sure if Dudley would be listed, but I didn’t have any other choice. I didn’t remember his aunt and uncle’s first names. 

Luckily, Dudley was in the book, listed under Vernon and Petunia Dursley. 

“Wait a second. Harry’s aunt has the same name as that one Slytherin girl,” I said to myself. “Petunia Vixens. Odd.” 

I lugged the book downstairs to the telephone and dialed the number. It was picked up on the second ring. 

“Hello?” 

“Oh Harry thank God it’s you,” I said breathlessly. “I’ve been worried sick! Why haven’t you responded to any of my letters? Or Ron’s?”

“Pepper? How’d you get this number?” 

“A phonebook. Are you okay?”

“I guess. I haven’t replied because I haven’t gotten any letters from you. From  _ anyone _ .”

“That’s not true! I’ve been writing to you every week! And Ron—”

“DAD! HARRY’S ON THE PHONE, HARRY’S ON THE PHONE!” A voice yelled.

“Harry—”

“BOY, GET OFF THAT PHONE! STOP USING IT TO CALL YOUR WITCHY FRIENDS!”

“UNCLE VERNON, NO!” 

“Hello?” A scruffy voice barked. “Don’t call us again!” 

The call ended and I stood there, not entirely sure what had just happened. 

“What happened with your friend?” Mum asked. “I heard yelling.”

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “But I don’t think it’s good.” 

∆ ∆ ∆ 

I didn’t try to call Harry again. I feared that I had gotten him in trouble, and that was not what I wanted. 

On Friday, I had all of my stuff packed and ready to go. I sat with my parents in the living room, playing a round of chess with Dad while we waited for Ron. Bruce sat with Mum, who had a glass of wine in her hand and stared lazily out the window. 

“You walked right into that one,” Dad said as I tipped over my king. 

“I know, I know. I thought I could fight through the opening,” I mumbled. 

“Pepper, is your friend a redhead?”

“Yeah, why?”

“There’s a whole bunch of them on the sidewalk. God, it’s like an army.” 

I walked to the window and saw Ron, Fred, George, and who I assumed to be Mr. Weasley getting out of a light blue Ford Anglia. 

“That’s them,” I cheered. I opened the door just as they were about to ring the doorbell.

“Pepper!” 

“Come in, come in.”

All 4 Weasleys piled in, and sat down on the couch. 

“Arthur Weasley, pleasure to meet you.” Mr. Weasley introduced himself to both of my parents. 

“I’m Camellia,” Mum greeted. “And this is William.”

“Ah, yes. Ron has been talking about you all summer, William. He’s been bragging to his brother about how he knows a famous chess player.”

Dad let out a hearty laugh. “It’s great to hear that. Thank you for having Pepper over.”

“Oh it’s no bother at all,” Mr. Weasley dismissed. “Ron’s quite excited to have his friends over. We’ve heard quite a lot about them.”

“Well I know this is Ron,” Mum remarked, pointing at Ron. “But who are these two young men?”

“I’m Fred and this is—”

“George. We’re identical—”

“Twins.” 

“They’re on the Quidditch team with me, Mum. Remember I told you and Dad?”

“Oh yes. They’re the ones who hit the Quaffle away, right?”

“Bludgers, but yes.”

“Wonderful. Pepper talks about you all the time,” Mum said. “Would you like some tea?”

After a quick cup of tea, and a million questions about many of our Muggle items, Mr. Weasley loaded my trunk (and my mother’s blueberry pie) into the car, and we drove off.

“Sorry about the interrogation,” Fred commented. 

“Dad’s fascinated with Muggles and Muggle stuff,” George added. 

“It’s fine. I thought it was funny,” I replied, remembering the look of delight on Mr. Weasley’s face when he saw our television. 

“Have you heard from Harry? Hermione said that she hasn’t heard from him, either,” Ron asked. 

I nodded. “I called him the other day, but only for a moment.”

“You what?”

“She called him, Ron,” Mr. Weasley said from the driver’s seat. “With a fellytone, right Pepper?”

“It’s actually called a telephone,” I answered. “And yes. I asked him why he hadn’t replied to any of our letters, but he told me that he hadn’t gotten any.”

“Rubbish! I wrote to him like 12 times!” 

“And I write every week! But before he could answer, his stupid cousin ratted him out.”

“I hope he’s okay.” 

“So do I.”

We arrived at Ron’s house about an hour and a half later. As soon as I walked through the door, I was met by a kind-looking, redheaded woman. 

“You must be Pepper!” she exclaimed, embracing me. “I’m Molly Weasley. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Fred, George, and Ron talk about you all the time.”

“It’s great to meet you too, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for the baked goods you sent me on my birthday. They were delicious.”

She beamed. “I’m glad you liked them.” 

“Speaking of baked goods,” I said. “My mother made a pie as a thank you present. I hope you all like it.”

“A pie! How thoughtful! I’m sure we’ll love it. I’ll take it into the kitchen.”

I handed her the pie and she led us into the kitchen. “Ron, will you take her to Ginny’s room so she can get settled?”

Ron nodded, and we started climbing multiple flights of stairs. As we ascended, I looked over every inch of the house, which they called the Burrow. 

I had never seen a wizarding household before, and I was amazed. There were so many different magical artifacts, like dishes that washed themselves and needles that did their own knitting. 

“Your house is  _ amazing _ ,” I gasped. 

Ron flushed. “Er—thanks.” 

We reached a room. “This is my sister Ginny’s room. You’ll be sharing. I’ll be downstairs.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I knocked on the door. A small girl flung it open. 

“You must be Pepper.”

“Yes, and you must be Ginny. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Everyone’s always talking about you,” she said as I walked in. “The rest of us couldn’t wait to meet you.”

I smiled. “Me either.”

As I unpacked, I talked with Ginny. She was quite funny, and she also liked Quidditch. 

“We’ll have to play sometime,” she said. “We all like to play together.”

“That sounds great!”

“So,” she began. “Is Harry coming to stay too?”

“Oh, I don’t know. We haven’t heard from him yet. Why?” I noticed that her face flushed bright red. 

“Oh, no reason. What’s he like?”

“He’s very nice. He also likes Quidditch, and he’s funny. I’m sure you two would get along.”

She turned even redder and changed the subject. 

Mrs. Weasley made a delicious chicken dinner, with Mum’s pie as the dessert. Everyone seemed to love it, and I made a mental note to tell her in my next letter. 

After dinner, I played a few chess games with Ron and Percy while everyone watched. 

“Pepper’s dad is a famous chess player,” Ron said. 

“We know, Ron,” Ginny huffed. “You’ve told us at least a hundred times.” 

I beat Percy in every game that we played which completely baffled him. He demanded a rematch for tomorrow, since it was getting a bit late. 

Ginny and I went to her room, and we fell asleep almost immediately. I had only been asleep for a few hours when I felt someone shake me. 

“What is it?” I asked groggily.

“Shh!” Ron whispered. “Get up. Come on, come on! Hurry and change.”

He left, and I quickly pulled on some jeans and a red jumper. I laced my trainers as quickly as possible, and snuck out of the room, careful not to wake Ginny. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Ron said. We tiptoed down the stairs, and into the living room, where Fred and George sat together.

“What are we doing?” I questioned.

“We’re going to go save Harry,” Ron answered. “Those Muggles of his must have him locked up or something.” 

“Okay.” I paused. “Wait, how?”

“The car, of course,” George chirped. 

“The car? Can you even drive?”

“Of course we can drive,” Fred scoffed. “And it’s only two hours away.”

“But we have to be sneaky,” Ron said. “Mum and Dad can’t know.”

I crossed my arms. “So how are you going to explain Harry’s sudden appearance?”

“That’s a problem for another time, Peppy,” George interjected. “Now hurry up. We’re wasting time.” 

I followed them out of the house, and we all got into the car. George hopped into the driver’s seat, Ron in the passenger’s seat, and Fred and I sat in the back. 

“Seatbelts!” Fred yelled. “And hold on tight!”

“Hold on tight? What—”

George stepped on the gas pedal while Fred clicked a button. Minutes later, we were flying in the air.”

“Bloody hell!” I screamed, gripping the side of the door. 

“Cool, huh?” George quipped, turning to face me.

“Eyes on the road–er, sky– PAY ATTENTION!” I roared. 

All three boys laughed at my reaction.

“Dad enchanted this car so it would fly,” Ron explained. “Don’t worry, it’s not dangerous.”

I looked out the window, and saw a few nighttime stragglers on the road. “Can they see us? Won’t this raise any flags?” 

“Don’t worry, Pepper. The car has an invisibility booster. They can’t see it.”

I sighed. “This is freaky.”

“But you have to admit it’s cool,” Fred pressed. 

I rolled my eyes, but grinned. “It is cool.”

As the drive went on, I grew more comfortable with the flying car, and I began enjoying the scenery. Soon, we arrived at Harry’s house. We flew around, looking for his window.

“Which one is it?” George asked. “We can’t waste any gas flying in circles.”

“It must be that one,” I mumbled, pointing to the window with the bars on it. We pulled out next to it, and Ron poked his head out of the car. Lucky for us, Harry was standing at his window, staring at the flying car. 

“Hey Harry!” Ron greeted. 

“Ron? Fred? George? Pepper? What are you doing here?” 

“Rescuing you, of course,” Ron chirped. “Now hurry up and grab your trunk!” 

While Harry quickly packed up his belongings and dressed, we put a hook on the window bars. 

“You better stand back,” I warned as George began driving. In one swift–and loud– motion, the bars flew off and fell to the ground. 

We opened the trunk and Harry hastily threw his stuff in. We heard his uncle screaming as he loaded his stuff in. 

“Harry, hurry!” I pleaded. He handed me Hedwig, and he started to climb into the car when his abnormally obese uncle grabbed his ankle. 

“You’re not going anywhere!” he bellowed.

“Get off!” Harry screamed as Ron, Fred, and I tried to pull him away. 

“Drive!” I ordered George. He slammed the pedal, and Harry was freed from his uncle’s grip. I winced as he fell from the window and into the rosebushes. We sped away from their cries.

“That was a close one,” I said. “Really close.” 

Harry told us all about the abuse he had endured at the hands of his aunt and uncle. We were horrified to hear all of it, especially the parts about a deranged house elf stealing his post. 

By the time we arrived at the Burrow, it was morning. I wondered if Mrs. Weasley had noticed our absence. Maybe it was too early for them to be awake. 

George quietly opened the door, and ushered us in. Harry stared at the house in awe as the rest of us took off our coats. 

“It’s not much,” Ron said through a mouthful of bread. “But it’s home.”

“I think it’s brilliant,” Harry said.

“Tell me about it,” I quipped. 

There was thudding noise and Mrs. Weasley jumped out of nowhere. The four of us stood there in absolute terror. 

_ “Where have you been?” _ she demanded. Her angry demeanor faded once she saw Harry. “Oh, Harry, how wonderful to see you, dear.” 

She turned back to her sons. “Beds empty! No note! Car gone! You could have  _ died! _ You could have been  _ seen! _ ” she reprimanded. She turned to us. “Of course, I don’t blame you, Harry and Pepper. It’s not your fault they wrapped you into this.”

I relaxed a bit once I realized she wasn’t angry with me. I liked Mrs. Weasley, and I didn’t want to be on her bad side. 

“But they were starving him, Mum,” Ron protested. Harry nodded furiously. “They put bars on his window!” 

“Well you best hope I don’t put bars on  _ your _ window, Ronald Weasley!” Fred, George, and I exchanged bemused glances. 

“Now,” she said with a smile. “Time for a spot of breakfast.” 

We sat down and started eating. Moments later, Ginny came running down the stairs, still in her dressing gown. 

“Mummy, have you seen my jumper?” 

“Yes dear, it was on the cat.”

Ginny took notice of Harry, and her eyes widened. 

“Hello!” Harry greeted.

Ginny backed away slowly, and disappeared back up the stairs. Fred and George let out a snicker, which earned them a glare from their mother. 

“What did I do?” Harry asked, puzzled. 

“Ginny’s been talking about you all summer,” Ron explained. “It’s a bit annoying, really.” 

“Morning, family!” Mr. Weasley shouted as he entered the kitchen. He immediately started talking about some of his raids, which Ron explained to us. Mr. Weasley sat at the head of the table, and stared at Harry.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Oh sorry, sir. I’m Harry Potter.”

“Good Lord. Are you really? Well, Ron’s told us all about you of course. When did you get here?” 

Mrs. Weasley turned from her cooking. “This morning. Your sons flew that enchanted car of yours to Surrey and back. They even took poor Pepper with them!”

“Did you really?” We all stared down at our plates. “How’d it go?”

We began to answer his question excitedly when Mrs. Weasley smacked her husband’s arm.

“I mean, that was very wrong of you boys. Very wrong indeed.”

I suppressed a smile and continued eating. “Now, Harry,” Mr. Weasley began. “Pepper couldn’t quite tell me this, but do you know the function of a rubber duck?” 

I stifled a giggle as everyone stared at Harry intently. But he didn’t get a chance to respond, because Errol flew in with the mail. Er–well, he flew into the window. Percy fetched the mail.

“Oh look,” he said. “It’s our Hogwarts letters. And they’ve sent us Harry’s and Pepper’s as well.”

“Dumbledore. What a smart man.”

“This lot won’t come cheap, Mum,” Fred commented. “The spellbooks alone are very expensive.”

I hoped that I had brought enough money. I didn’t want to mooch off of the Weasleys. They had their own children to worry about. 

“We’ll manage,” Mrs. Weasley said bleakly. “Now there’s only one place where we can get this. Diagon Alley.”

∆ ∆ ∆

I stood in front of the fireplace with the rest of the Weasley clan. Mrs. Weasley picked up a flower pot that seemed to be full of dust.

“Harry, you go first, dear,” she said. Harry looked at me in confusion. I shrugged my shoulders. 

“Harry and Pepper have never traveled by Floo Powder before Mum,” Ron interjected. 

_ “Floo powder?” _

“Well you go first then, Ron, so they can see how it’s done.” Ron nodded, and stepped inside the fireplace. 

Scooping up some powder, he yelled, “Diagon Alley!” There was an explosion of green flames, and Ron was gone. 

“What the—”

“You go next, Harry. It’s quite easy, don’t be afraid.”

Harry stumbled to the fireplace, practically trembling with anxiety.

“Speak very, very clearly,” Mrs. Weasley instructed. 

Harry held the powder. “Diagonally!” 

He too disappeared in the green fire. 

“What did he say?” Mrs. Weasley asked. 

“Diagonally,” her husband responded.

She gulped. “Maybe Pepper should go with George.”

I did go with George, and we ended up safely in Diagon Alley. However, we couldn’t find Harry, no matter how hard we looked. We ended up finding him in Flourish and Blotts, after we had purchased our books. 

“Oh Harry, thank goodness,” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. “We hoped you’d only go one grate too far.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart!” 

Mrs. Weasley gasped and applauded strongly. A wizard wearing periwinkle robes entered the store, flashing the photographers a smile. 

“Mum fancies him,” Ron told us. 

Mrs. Weasley smacked him, but continued to clap. All of a sudden, Lockhart stopped posing. 

“It can’t be. Harry Potter!” he exclaimed. Everyone’s attention shifted to where we stood, and another photographer grabbed his cloak and pulled him to the front. 

Lockhart eagerly wrapped an arm around Harry and started ordering him to pose for the cameras. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is,” Lockhart announced. “When young Harry stepped into Flourish and Blotts to buy my new autobiography,  _ Magical Me,  _ he had no idea that he would be leaving with my entire collected works, free of charge.”

The crowd went wild again, and I raised an eyebrow. Why did everyone love him so much? He just seemed arrogant. Lockhart shoved a stack of books into Harry’s arms and shoved him aside. 

“You give those to me, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said. “I’ll go get them signed. The rest of you, go wait outside.” 

We all pushed our way towards the exit, which was rather tricky thanks to the long line of people who wanted their books signed by that pompous git. We were nearly out the door when a familiar face stepped in front of us. 

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” Malfoy sneered. I hadn’t seen him in two long, peaceful months, and I was starting to deeply miss that quiet. He hadn’t seen me yet, and I hid behind Fred, eager to keep it that way. Malfoy stepped right in front of Harry. 

“Famous Harry Potter. You can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page!” 

“Leave him alone! He didn’t want all that!” Ginny exclaimed hotly, walking away from where we stood in the back. 

Malfoy chuckled. “Oh look, Potter! You’ve got yourself a girlfriend!” 

A tall man with shiny long hair the same color as Malfoy’s placed a walking stick on his shoulder. 

“Now, Draco, play nicely,” he remarked, and then turned to Harry with an eerie smile. “Mr. Potter. Lucius Malfoy. We meet at last.”

Harry gingerly shook his hand. Lucius yanked him closer and brushed his hair out of his face, trying to get a better view of his scar. “Forgive me, but your scar is a legend. Much like the wizard who gave it to you.”

“Voldemort killed my parents. He was nothing more than a murderer,” Harry declared boldly. 

“You must be very brave to mention his name,” Lucius replied, raising an eyebrow. 

I stepped forward, now standing next to Malfoy and Ginny. “Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.” 

Lucius turned towards me. “And you must be Miss Atkinson?” He looked to his son for confirmation. Malfoy nodded obediently. “Yes, Draco’s told me all about you. And your parents. I don’t see them here. Muggles, aren’t they?” 

“They aren’t here,” I answered coolly, crossing my arms. “But yes, they are Muggles.” 

He made a face, and spun around to face the Weasleys. “Let’s see. Red hair, vacant expressions, and,” he picked up one of Ginny’s used textbooks. “Tatty secondhand book. You must be the Weasleys.”

Mr. Weasley arrived at that time, sensing the tension. “Children, it’s mad in here. Let’s go outside.”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Weasley senior?” Lucius drawled. 

“Lucius,” he said stiffly. 

“Busy time at the Ministry, Arthur, with all those extra raids? I do hope they’re paying you overtime. But by judging the state of this,” he turned Ginny’s book in his hands, ''I'd say not. What’s the use in being a disgrace to the name of a wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?” 

Mr. Weasley gulped. “We have a very different idea of what disgraces a wizard, Malfoy.”

“Clearly. Associating with Muggles. And I thought your family could sink no lower.” He threw Ginny’s book back into her cauldron. “See you at work.”

He sauntered out of the shop. I turned to Malfoy. 

“Nice to hear that you talk about me so much,” I commented. 

He looked at me with distaste. “I only talk about what kind of scum enters the school.”

“So kind, Malfoy, so kind.”

He rolled his eyes. “Staying with the Weasleys? What happened to those Muggles of yours?”

“They’re at home. I’m spending the holidays with them.”

“They would let Mudbloods into their homes. Disgusting. Wait until my father hears about this.”

“About me? Aw, I’m touched.”

“Oh, get over yourself. I’m just telling him about the kind of people we should avoid.”

“Well,” I said, stepping out of the shop with the rest of the Weasleys. “You know what they say.”

“What?”

“No publicity is bad publicity.” 


	13. Viridian

_ Help me get my feet back on the ground _

“We’re late! We’re late!” Mrs. Weasley moaned nearly the entire car ride.

Today was the day that we returned to Hogwarts, and we were running terribly late. We had woken up at the proper times, but everyone scrambled to pack a few last-minute items. Then, Mr. Weasley struggled to fit all of our trunks into the car. He ended up using a charm, and instructed us not to tell his wife. 

Once we actually made it on the road, we had to stop a few times. We had barely left the driveway when I remembered that I had forgotten Bruce. Then, Fred forgot his broomstick just as the Burrow was vanishing from sight. And much to Mrs. Weasley’s dismay, Ginny shrieked that she forgot her diary right as we were about to get on the highway. 

We arrived with only five minutes to cross the border. Percy went first, followed by the twins and Mr. Weasley.

“You three go after us,” Mrs. Weasley instructed, disappearing with Ginny. I gripped my trolley tightly. 

“Ready?” Ron asked. 

“Ready.” Slowly but surely, we jogged towards the barrier, expecting to fall through to the other side. We did not expect to come crashing down on the ground, the contents of our trolleys spilling everywhere. 

A security guard stomped towards us with a furious expression. “What on Earth do you think you’re doing?”

“We were just—” Ron began. 

“You were just what?” 

Sensing trouble, I stepped in quickly. 

“Sorry,” I sniffed, wiping my eyes. “We didn’t mean to cause such a commotion–we just lost control of the trolleys. Oh, are we in trouble?” I batted my eyelashes, letting a few tears slip from my eye. “Please don’t tell me we’re in trouble, sir!” 

He instantly softened. “Oh, no, no, don’t cry. Just be careful, please.” 

I nodded. “Oh thank you sir, thank you!”

“Do you need any help?”

“No thank you, sir. We just need to pick up our belongings, and we’ll be on our way.” 

“Alright. Be careful, now.” 

“We will. Thank you.” 

He smiled weakly at us and then departed to help another family find their train. As soon as his back was turned, I wiped the tears from my face. 

“Woah,” Ron exclaimed. “How did you get real tears to come out?”

“My aunt used to act,” I explained. “She taught me and my other cousins how to do it. It’s quite simple really.”

“Er—that’s great,” Harry interjected, “but what are we going to do? Why can’t we get through?” 

I shrugged and scooped up a frightened Bruce. “I don’t know. Ron? Is there anything we can do?”

He shook his head, and pointed to the clock. “The train leaves at exactly 11 o’clock. We’ve missed it.” 

“Well what do we do know?” I asked frantically. “What if your parents can’t get back through, Ron?” 

“Maybe we should go wait by the car,” Harry suggested.

Ron’s eyes lit up. “That’s it! The car!” 

“This is brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “Genius, really. All we have to do is follow the train.” 

“I don’t know,” I said. “What if it’s dangerous?”

“Dangerous? We flew the car the other day, and we were fine,” Ron insisted. 

“Well yeah, but what about your parents?” Harry interjected. 

“If they can even get out, they can apparate. Come on! You know it’s a great idea!” 

I mulled it over. Ron was right. It wasn’t certain that they could return. And if they did, they still had a way to get home. This was our only way to get to school.

“Ron’s right,” I admitted. “Let’s go.”

We quickly piled into the car. I sat in the back with Hedwig and Bruce, as Ron got the car ready. Within moments, we were in the air.

“Uh Ron?”

“Yeah Pepper?”

“Muggles aren’t used to seeing flying cars.”

“Oh right,” he chuckled, pressing the invisibility booster button. But nothing happened. “It’s not working!” he cried. 

“Just fly lower,” Harry ordered. “Maybe nobody will see. I mean, who  _ really _ looks at the sky anyway?”

We continued to fly, and we looked for the tracks of the Hogwarts Express. I stroked Bruce’s fur mindlessly, wondering how Ron would be able to drive this car for nine hours, since that was how long it took to get to Hogwarts. 

A few hours later, we were following the tracks. 

“All we need to do is find the train,” Ron said. “We shouldn’t be too far behind now.” 

I sighed, incredibly bored. Soon, I heard a strange sound. 

“Do you hear that?” I asked. 

“It’s the train!” Ron exclaimed joyfully. “We must be getting close!” 

I moved Hedwig and Bruce aside, and moved to the middle of the seats. “I don’t see anything.”

“Hold on,” Harry muttered. He turned around and his eyes widened. 

“RON!” 

I whipped my head around and screamed at the sight of the Hogwarts Express, which showed no signs of slowing down. 

“Turn the car!” I screeched. “Get out of its way!” 

Ron swerved violently, Harry flew out of the car. 

“OH MY GOD! HARRY FELL FROM THE CAR!” I shrieked, terror filling every inch of my body. “OH MY GOD! HE’S DEAD! HE’S _ DEAD! _ ” 

“Pepper, he’s not dead,” Ron said, gripping the wheel tightly. “He’s just hanging by the door. Harry!” 

“Help!” Harry shouted. 

“Pepper, take the wheel! Quick!” 

I launched out of my seat and grabbed the steering wheel as Ron tried to pull Harry back into the car. I accidentally kicked Bruce, and he scratched my leg.

“Ow!” I rubbed my leg with one hand. 

_ “The wheel!”  _

“Sorry! But Bruce just—”

“Watch out!” Harry came tumbling into the backseat, crushing me and the pets. 

Ron regained control of the wheel and slammed the door shut. 

“Is everyone alright?” 

“I think–”

“AAAAHH!” Harry yelled. Bruce started to attack Harry, clearly not pleased with the way he had been crushed only moments ago. 

“Bad Bruce! Bruce, stop!” I tried pulling him off of Harry, but it was no use. He was dead set on scratching him. Harry kept swatting him away, which only seemed to encourage the angry orange cat. Bruce recoiled and threw himself at Harry’s face. Harry ducked, and Bruce went flying through the window. 

_ “BRUCE!”  _

The three of us watched in horror as Bruce fell through the air, hissing as he went down. Both of the boys stared at me. 

“Bloody hell, did he just—”

“Yes. My cat just fell out the window.” 

“Er–Pepper,” Harry began awkwardly. “I’m really sorry—”

“It’s not your fault, Harry,” I said with a trembling voice. “I just don’t know how I’m going to tell my parents. We’ve had him since I was four.”

There was a long, terrible silence. I turned away from the boys and stared out the window, stupidly hoping that Bruce landed in some soft bushes instead of rock-solid ground. 

Hours later, we arrived at school. Between Harry’s near-death experience and Bruce’s actual death, we weren’t in the happiest of moods. I knew that Harry felt guilty about Bruce’s demise, but I reassured him that this wasn’t the case. I should’ve put him in his portable cage. 

“Welcome home,” Ron chirped as we started to see the castle. I wondered how he wasn’t tired, considering that he had driven the car for such a long time without a break. I sighed, ready to get out of the car. Soon, the car started descending. But we weren’t close enough to the castle yet. 

“Ron?” I asked. “What are you doing?”

“Go up, Ron!” Harry ordered. “Up!” 

“I’m trying! It’s not working!” 

“Watch out for that tree!” 

We plummeted through the sky, heading towards the ground at an alarming pace. But we somehow managed to land safely on the ground. 

“Oh my God,” I muttered. “We almost died.”

“M-my wand!” Ron cried, holding up his wand, which was snapped in two. “My wand!” 

“Be thankful it’s not your neck,” Harry quipped. “Come on, let’s—”

There was a thrashing noise. 

“What’s that?”

We turned and saw a tree branch coming towards us at full speed. Ron slammed the brakes, and we sped out of the forest, narrowly missing the tree’s wrath. Once we were safe, we unloaded our stuff. 

The car, which was somehow still working, drove itself in reverse back towards the forest. Ron paled. 

“Dad’s going to kill me.”

We snuck into the castle, disposing our luggage in the corridor. We tried to make our way into the Great Hall, but we were stopped by none other than stupid greasy-haired Filch. 

“Well,” he drawled, stroking his cat. I felt a pang remembering Bruce’s unfortunate car ride. “Take a good look at the castle, kids. This may as well be the last time you ever see it.” 

“You were seen by no less than seven Muggles. Do you have any idea how serious this is?” Snape bellowed. Harry, Ron, and I sat in his office, awaiting our punishment. I was sure that we were going to be expelled now. How was I going to explain to my parents that I got expelled from magic school for flying a car,  _ and _ that our beloved cat fell out of said car? 

“You have risked the exposure of our world! Not to mention the damage you inflicted on a Whomping Willow that’s been on these grounds since before you were  _ born _ .” 

“Honestly, Professor, I think it did more damage to us,” Ron said lamely. 

“Silence! If you were in Slytherin and your punishment were up to me, you’d be on the train home right now. As it is—”

“They are not,” Dumbledore interjected, walking into the room with Professor McGonagall. 

“Headmaster, these foolish students have flouted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry. As such—”

“I am well aware of our bylaws, Severus, having written a few of them myself,” Dumbledore stated. “However, as head of Gryffindor House, it is up to Professor McGonagall to determine the appropriate action.” 

Snape stood from his desk angrily, and stormed out of the room. Dumbledore paid no attention to his attitude, and walked out peacefully. 

Ron let out a deep, defeated sigh once we were alone with McGonagall. “We’ll go get our stuff.”

“What are you talking about Mr. Weasley?”

“You’re going to expel us, aren’t you?”

“Not today, Mr. Weasley. But, I must impress on the three of you the seriousness of your actions. I will be writing to your families tonight, and you will all receive detention.”

I sighed in relief. “Thank you, Professor.”

∆ ∆ ∆

I yawned over my eggs. After receiving my punishment, I went straight to my dorm to go to sleep. But as soon as I set foot inside, Hermione bombarded me with questions, which led me to telling her everything from crashing into the barrier, to Bruce’s death, to our narrowly avoided expulsion. She scolded me, but stopped once I started crying about my precious cat. Then, she tried her best to comfort me. Now, she was busy chewing out Harry and Ron, and continued to do so until we reached Herbology. 

“Good morning!” Professor Sprout chirped. “Welcome back, second years! Now today, we’ll be repotting Mandrakes. Who can tell me the properties of a Mandrake root? Miss Granger?”

“Mandrake, or Mandragora, is used to return those who have been petrified to their original state. It’s also quite dangerous. The Mandrake’s cry is fatal to anyone who hears it.” 

“Wonderful! 10 points to Gryffindor! Now, as our Mandrakes are still only seedlings their cries won’t kill you yet. But, they could knock you out for several hours, which is why I have given each of you a pair of earmuffs for auditory protection. So, could you please put them on, right away?”

Everyone scrambled to grab a pair that wasn’t pink and fluffy. 

“Flaps tight down, and watch me closely. You grasp your Mandrake firmly, you pull it sharply up out of the pot, dunk it down into the other pot and pour a little sprinkling of soil to keep him warm.” The plants looked like shriveled-up babies, and they emitted a cry so terrible that Neville fainted.

“Longbottom’s been neglecting his earmuffs, hasn’t he?” Professor Sprout questioned.

“He’s just fainted,” I replied. 

“Yes, well, just leave him there. Right! On we go! Plenty of pots to go around. Grasp your Mandrake, and pull it up!” she instructed. 

After we successfully repotted our Mandrakes (Malfoy’s bit his finger, and Crabbe fainted), we made our way to a few more classes before we had a free period. 

“Say it,” Ron said as he inspected his wand. It was held together by some Spellotape, and barely seemed to be working. “I’m doomed.”

“You’re doomed,” I replied. “Hey Harry—”

I was blinded by a flash. “What the—”

“Hi, Harry!” A short blonde boy stood eagerly in front of Harry. “I’m Colin Creevey! I’m in Gryffindor, too!” 

“Er—hi, Colin,” Harry said. 

“I’m a big,  _ big _ fan,” Colin continued. “Do you think—”

Colin was interrupted by the screech of an owl. Everyone turned to face the owl in confusion, since they usually only came in during breakfast.

“Hey, Ron?” I began. “Isn’t that Errol?”

Errol flapped his wings furiously, desperately trying to stay in the air. Per usual, he was unsuccessful, and landed in a bowl of crisps. He had a bright red envelope in his beak.

People laughed at Errol’s entrance, but I was more concerned about the look on Ron’s face.

“Look everybody!” Seamus yelled. “Weasley’s got a Howler!” 

“Go on, Ron,” Neville encouraged. He had recovered since this morning’s Herbology incident, and was now trying to complete the assignment on Mandrakes. “I ignored one from my Gran once. It was horrible.”

Ron trembled as he opened the letter. 

“What’s a—”

_ “RONALD WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR?” _ The letter yelled, interrupting my question but answering it at the same time. It was screaming in a voice I knew to be his mother’s.  _ “I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER’S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, AND IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME! Oh and Ginny dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud.”  _

The letter spit at Ron before destroying itself into tiny shreds. 

The entire Great Hall burst into laughter. None of us quite knew what to say to him. 

∆ ∆ ∆

After the Howler fiasco, we walked to our last class of the day, which happened to be DADA with that self-absorbed git Gilderoy Lockhart. Nearly every girl swooned at the sight of him, including Hermione. It was absolutely ridiculous.

“Welcome, welcome!” he announced. “Please refrain from sitting down. I have a seating chart prepared!” 

The class groaned as he whipped out a large piece of parchment. “Let’s see… we have Mr. Weasley with Miss Patil, Miss Granger with Mr. Potter, Miss Atkinson with Mr. Malfoy…” 

I groaned. I didn’t know if I could handle another year of being partners with Malfoy. 

“Mudblood,” he greeted stiffly. 

I grunted in response. 

“Looks like you’re stuck with me. Again.”

“Great.” 

“Not very chatty today, are you?”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“I bet. Everyone heard about your little journey with Potter and Weaselbee.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“It’s a shame that you weren’t expelled. Although, that Howler was pretty entertaining. Only the Weasels would own a flying car.”

“I’m not in the mood, Malfoy,” I repeated. 

“Why not? Didn’t you have fun on the Weasley Express?”

“No.”

“Why—”

“Because my cat fell out of the car and died,” I snapped. “Now please, leave me alone.”

His jaw dropped open. “Your cat  _ what? _ ”

Luckily, Gilderoy Lockhart began speaking. “Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Merlin, third class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-times winner of Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award.” He flashed us a rehearsed smile and continued. “But we don’t need to talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at him!” 

He let out a boisterous laugh that nobody returned. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about. Just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in.”

He handed out pieces of parchment, and I snatched mine from Malfoy’s hands and stared at the quiz. The questions were all about him and his books, and I hadn’t read any of them. I stared at the paper, not quite sure what to do. 

“What are you doing?” Malfoy hissed. 

“None of your business,” I whispered.

“Didn’t you read the books?”

“No.”

“Well you better write something.”

“Why? They’re all about  _ him _ . How is that even Defense Against the Dark Arts? This is basically a fan club.”

He snorted. “He won’t be pleased if you don’t write anything at all.”

“I’m so scared,” I said sarcastically. “What’s he going to do to me? Gel my hair like his? Buy me a matching robe set? I think I’ll take the chances.”

“What if you get detention?”

“Then I’ll serve it.”

“Your move.”

I ended up guessing for the first ten questions, and then leaving the rest blank. I wrote my name as neatly as I could on the parchment, and passed it forward. 

“You may speak amongst yourselves as I grade these.”

“Did  _ you _ read the books?” I asked. 

“Of course.”

“You don’t really strike me as the reading type.”

“For Merlin’s sake Atkinson, I’m not  _ Crabbe _ .” I actually laughed, but quickly stopped. 

“So was it just my imagination,” he said after a moment of silence, “or did I see you actually writing on the paper after you said you wouldn’t.”

“I decided to guess on a few questions,” I replied. “Let’s just say that my answers were… creative.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Creative? What does that mean?”

I shrugged. “You may never know.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“I’m not playing around, Mudblood.”

“Neither am I, Pure-prat.”

“Tell me.”

“Never.”

He squinted his eyes. “You better tell me.”

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll face my wrath.”

“What could you possibly do to me?”

He smirked. “You’d be surprised.”

Rolling my eyes, I started to doodle on my textbook, and did so until Lockhart finished grading the tests. 

“Hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac!” he whined, flipping through the pages. “In fact, some of you thought it’d be funny to write some rather  _ colorful _ words on this exam. Miss Atkinson, where are you?”

I lazily shot my hand into the air. “What is the meaning of these words?”

“Well you see Professor, I just couldn’t bother to read your books. So I decided to guess.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to anybody’s indifference. “I see. Well I’m afraid that you need to serve a detention for this.”

I shrugged, and he continued. Malfoy rolled his eyes and snickered. 

“What?” I asked as Lockhart praised Hermione. 

“You wrote swear words on the test?”

“Yup.”

“What kind of words.”

“My personal favorite word is what you are. It starts with the letter A and rhymes with bass—”

“I must warn you!” Lockhart shouted dramatically, nearly making me jump out of my seat. “It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourself facing your own worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here.” 

He turned to a covered cage dramatically while all of the girls in the class swooned. I couldn’t actually believe that they fancied this git. “Now, I must ask you not to scream. It might provoke them.”

He pulled the cover off the cage and revealed a horde of what looked like skinny blue troll dolls with wings. 

_ “Cornish pixies?”  _ Seamus exclaimed as everyone around him burst into laughter. 

“Freshly caught Cornish pixies,” Lockhart corrected. “Laugh if you will, but pixies can be devilishly tricky little blighters. Let's see what you make of them now!”

And without any warning or instruction, he opened the cage. The pixies swarmed around the room, wreaking havoc. I grabbed my book and started hitting the ones that got too close. Malfoy on the other hand, had run to the back of the room and started to use Goyle as a human shield. 

“Come on now, round them up, round them up. They're only pixies,” he remarked, pulling his wand out of his mustard-colored robes.  _ “Peskipiski Pesternomi!” _

Nothing happened. A pixie seized this opportunity by snatching his wand, and throwing it out the window. He paled. A horde of students fled the room, and he joined them. 

“I’ll ask the remaining students to put them back in the cage,” he gulped. The only people left in the room were Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and I. 

“What do we do now?” Ron asked, slapping a pixie off his arm. 

_ “Immobilus!” _ Hermione yelled. With that, the pixies froze in the air, and everything was calm again. 

“Thank God for Hermione,” I muttered. 

“Help!” Neville howled from the chandelier where the pixies had hung him. “Why is it always me?” 

Nobody had an answer for him. It took us twenty minutes to get him down safely. The same can’t be said for the chandelier, though. 


	14. Saffron

_ And it’s kill, kill, killin’ me _

“I spent the summer devising a whole new Quidditch program,” Oliver Wood declared as we walked across the courtyard. It was an unusually warm autumn afternoon, and Wood had scheduled the first practice of the season. His whole was to win the Quidditch Cup, and nothing would stand in his way this time. “We’re going to train earlier, harder, and longer!” 

We followed his prideful strides as we made our way to the pitch. I tried not to laugh as Fred and George mimicked his excited attitude. However, all smiles faded once we saw the Slytherin Quidditch team approaching the pitch. They were all tall, muscular older boys. But as learned from last year, that didn’t mean that they were good. 

“Where do you think you’re going Flint?” Wood demanded, placing his hands on his hips angrily. I stepped back a few steps. You never wanted to get in his way when he was in Quidditch mode. 

“Quidditch practice,” Flint sneered, revealing a rather ugly set of teeth.

“I booked the pitch for today,” Wood scoffed. 

“Easy, Wood. I’ve got a note.” Flint tossed Wood a scrap of parchment, and we all leaned into to read over his shoulder. Slightly annoyed at our invasiness, he read it aloud. 

_ “I, Professor Severus Snape, do hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice, owing to the need to train their new Seeker.” _ He folded the paper in half and scanned the players curiously. “You’ve got a new Seeker? Who is it?” 

I was appalled to see the Slytherins move out of the way to reveal a very smug Draco Malfoy. He was physically smaller than the rest of the players, but his ego was significantly greater than all of theirs combined. He clutched a shiny black broomstick, and his face held a contemptuous smirk. 

“Malfoy?” Harry asked in disbelief. Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. 

“That’s right,” he bloviated. “And that’s not all that’s new this year.” Along with the rest of the Slytherins, he flaunted the black broomsticks. Looking closely, I realized that they were Nimbus 2001’s. 

“Nimbus 2001’s?” Ron exclaimed. “How did you get those?” 

“They’re a gift from Draco’s father,” Flint gloated. 

“You see, Weasley, unlike some, my father can afford the best!” Malfoy boasted. 

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,” Hermione taunted. “They got in on pure talent.” 

Malfoy’s face twisted with rage. “No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood!” 

The Gryffindor team cried out in fury. Fred and George lunged towards Malfoy, but Wood held them back. Ron on the other hand, could not be stopped. 

“You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy,” he fumed. “Eat slugs!” 

Ron attempted to hex Malfoy, but his faulty wand betrayed him. The curse reversed, and instead of hitting the snotty blonde, it hit Ron square in the stomach. He fell to the ground in a heap. 

“Ron!” We ran towards his body. “Are you okay?” 

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, a gigantic, slimy slug fell out. The Slytherins erupted into fits of uncontrollable laughter as we tried to help Ron. 

We heard the flash of a camera. “Can you flip him over Harry?” asked Colin Creevey.

“Not now, Colin!” Harry sighed, trying to help Ron. 

“Nice try Weaselbee!” Malfoy lampooned. “But maybe try to hit  _ me _ .” 

As Harry and Hermione lifted him onto his feet, I stomped furiously towards Malfoy. 

“Oh look,” he ridiculed. “Another Mudblood. What—” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, I lifted my wand to his face.  _ “ _ _ Langlock!” _

Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but found himself speechless. Probably because I jinxed his tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth. 

“Have fun talking now Pureprat.” I tucked my wand into my pocket and ran off after Harry, Hermione, and Ron. We carried him to Hagrid’s with the hope that he would know what to do. 

We knocked at his door furiously. “Hagrid! We need help!” 

He swung open the door just as Ron threw up another slug. “Oh lord.” He handed us a large bucket. “Better out than in. We can’t really do anything else.” 

Hermione rubbed Ron’s back as he coughed up another slimy creature. 

“Who were you trying to hex anyways?” 

“Malfoy,” Harry answered. “He called Hermione a—well I don’t know what it means.” 

“He called me a Mudblood,” Hermione stated. 

“He didn’t!” Hagrid growled.

“He did. But I don’t know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, though.”

“It means dirty blood,” Ron explained, retching. “It’s a really foul name for someone who’s Muggle-born.” 

“You see Harry, there are some families—like the Malfoy’s—who think they’re better than everyone just because they’re what people call purebloods.”

“That’s horrible,” Harry cried. 

“It’s disgusting,” Ron added. “Being pureblood doesn’t make anyone any better. Just look at Neville. He can barely stand a cauldron up the right way.” 

“And it’s codswallop to boot,” Hagrid vocalized. “Dirty blood. There’s hardly a wizard today that isn’t half-blood or less. If we hadn’t married Muggles, we would’ve died out a long time ago.” He patted Hermione’s shoulder. “Besides, they haven’t invented a spell our Hermione can’t do.” 

“Hagrid’s right Hermione,” I agreed. “You’re the best witch in our class. That stupid word doesn’t mean anything. It was just created so big-headed idiots like Malfoy could cause drama. Don’t you let it get to you. I don’t. Besides, why should we care what  _ Malfoy  _ says? He’s got as much common sense as a rock.” 

Hermione smiled weakly. I loathed Malfoy for treating her like this. Hermione was a witch, pureblood or not. Where did he get off treating people like they were less than him? What made him so special? 

I knew it wasn’t his blood. 

∆ ∆ ∆

I hoped that Lockhart would forget about our detention, but I was wrong. After we went back inside, he cornered me and Harry. We were both forced to help him with a ridiculous amount of fan mail in his office. 

Lockhart sat me in the back of the classroom, and ordered me to properly address each letter. Harry on the other hand, was forced to sit with him in the front and answer the letters. He ignored me and spoke vividly to Harry, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but there. 

“Harry, can you possibly imagine a better way to serve detention than by helping me answer my fan mail?” Lockhart probed. 

“Not really,” Harry mumbled. 

“It’s a great way for you to practice. I doubt you’ll be getting more mail than  _ me _ , but it’s essential for us celebrities to know how to properly answer a fan,” Lockhart continued. I stifled a giggle as Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Fame is a fickle friend, Harry. Remember that.” 

My hand ached as I continued to scribble the names of the people who had written mail to Lockhart. How he had so many admirers was besides me, since it was clear that he barely knew anything about magic. I wondered how much of his books were actually true. 

“What did you say?” Harry asked suddenly. 

“Me?” Lockhart raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything. Was it you, Cinnamon?” 

“ _ Pepper _ , and no it wasn’t. Nobody said anything,” I remarked.

“There was a voice,” Harry insisted. “Didn’t you hear it?” 

Lockhart let out a hearty chuckle. “I think you’re getting a bit drowsy.” He checked his wristwatch. “And no wonder! We’ve been here for nearly four hours! Times flies when you’re having fun, huh?” 

“No wonder it felt like an eternity,” I groused, my stomach rumbling. Lockhart frowned. “We best be going now. We can finish this off another time.” 

Harry and I sped out of the classroom. I massaged my hand as Harry scratched his head. 

All of a sudden, he stopped walking. 

“What is it?” I asked. “Are you going to faint? We were in there for such a long time. Child labor is what it is!” 

“It’s the voice,” he whispered. “Can you hear it?” 

“No—” 

“Harry! Pepper!” We turned to see Hermione and Ron walking towards us. 

“Did you guys hear it?”

Hermione frowned. “Hear what?” 

“The voice.”

“Voice? What voice?” 

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“Harry, what’s going on?” Ron queried. 

“I heard it in Lockhart’s office, during detention. But Pepper didn’t. And I just heard it now—” He paused. “It’s moving. I think it’s going to kill.”

Ron’s eyes widened.  _ “Kill?”  _

Harry took off down the corridor. The three of us followed him, not sure what he was doing. 

“Harry, not so fast!” 

He stopped at a crossways. The floor was soaking wet, and our feet made splashing sounds as we walked down the corridor. 

“What are you doing?” I panted, tired from the sudden burst of activity. “What—”

I stopped speaking once I saw an army of spiders. They were crawling up the walls, almost like they were trying to escape something. 

“Strange,” Harry commented. “Have you ever seen spiders like that?” 

Ron whimpered. “I don’t like spiders.” 

I was about to agree with Ron when I noticed something in the water’s reflection. My gaze immediately went to the wall. 

_ “The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware,”  _ Hermione read aloud. She made a face and squirmed. “It’s written in blood.” 

“Oh no,” Harry murmured, walking closer to the graffitied wall. I then noticed Mrs. Norris dangling by the wall, dead. I closed my eyes, my thoughts immediately traveling to Bruce. 

At that time, students started to wander by. Everyone gasped once they saw the eerie message. 

_ “Enemies of the heir beware?”  _ Malfoy read. He turned to face Hermione and I. “You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” 

I shot him a nasty glare as Filch’s voice was heard. “What’s going on here?” He let out a shriek once he saw his beloved pet. 

_ “You.”  _ He grabbed Harry by the collar of his robes. “You murderer! You’ve murdered my cat!” 

Harry shook his head furiously. “No! No, it wasn’t me!” 

“Argus,” Dumbledore warned, appearing with McGonagall, Snape, and Lockhart. Once he saw the message, he turned to the crowd. “Everyone is to return to their dormitories immediately.”

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I tried to follow the Gryffindors back to the common room. 

“Everybody but you four,” Dumbledore clarified. Once everyone left, Dumbledore turned to the sobbing Filch. “She’s not dead, Argus. She’s been petrified.” 

“That’s what I thought,” Lockhart prattled. “Such a pity that I wasn’t there. I know exactly the counter curse that would have spared her.” 

“But how she was petrified, I’m not sure,” Dumbledore said, ignoring Lockhart. 

“Ask him!” Filch snarled, jabbing an accusatory finger at Harry. “He did it! You saw what he wrote on the wall!” 

“It’s not true, sir,” Harry pleaded. “I never touched Mrs. Norris, I swear!” 

“If it wasn’t him, then it was one of his little friends!” Filch turned to Hermione, Ron, and I. “It was one of you, wasn’t it?” 

“No, sir!” I choked. “I had a cat once—he died, though. I’d never kill a cat, I—”

“If I might,” Snape interrupted, “perhaps Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.  _ Snape _ defending us? Something had to be wrong. 

“However,” he continued, “the circumstances are suspicious. I for one, do not recall seeing Potter or Atkinson at dinner.” 

“I’m afraid that’s my doing Severus,” Lockhart chuckled. “They were helping me with my fan mail.” 

“That’s why Ron and I went looking for them,” Hermione interjected. “We’d just found them when Harry said…” 

Snape raised his eyebrows. “Yes?” 

“When I said I wasn’t hungry,” Harry lied. 

“We were heading back to the common room when we found Mrs. Norris,” I added. 

Dumbledore smiled. “Innocent until proven guilty, Severus.” 

“My cat has been petrified!” Filch shouted shrilly. “I want to see some punishment!” 

“We will be able to cure her, Argus,” Dumbledore soothed. “As I understand it, Professor Sprout has a very healthy growth of Mandrakes. When they have matured, a potion will be made, and it will revive Mrs. Norris. In the meantime, I advise caution to all.” With those final words, he departed the corridor, leaving us with a teary Filch. 

He patted my shoulder awkwardly. “I’m sorry about your cat. I’m sure he was lovely,” he said sympathetically. “It’s a shame that he’s gone.” 

“Er – thanks,” I replied. “I hope Mrs. Norris has a speedy recovery.”

He sniffed. “Thanks.” 

We left, walking back to our common room slowly. 

“Strange, isn’t it?” Ron questioned. 

“What is?” I pressed. 

“Well, Harry hears this voice,” he said, “a voice that only he can hear, and then Mrs. Norris ends up petrified. It’s just strange.” 

“Do you think I should’ve told them then? Dumbledore and the others?” 

“Are you mad?” Ron blurted.

“No, Harry,” Hermione answered. “Even in the wizarding world, hearing voices isn’t a good sign.” 

The rest of the walk back was silent as we all pondered the situation at hand. Who petrified Mrs. Norris? Who wrote the message on the wall? Why could Harry hear voices? What was the Chamber of Secrets? And most importantly, who opened the Chamber of Secrets? 

∆ ∆ ∆

I couldn’t focus on my homework after that. Mrs. Norris’s attack brought up my memories of Bruce, which induced a wave of grief. My parents were sympathetic about the freak accident, but I knew they were upset. Instead of staring at my textbooks sadly, I decided to take a walk around the castle to clear my head. 

“Do you want us to come with you?” Hermione asked, setting down her book. 

“No, it’s okay,” I replied. I could tell that she wanted to read, and I didn’t really fancy company anyway. “I just need to think.” 

I stepped out of the common room and walked around the corridors. I rubbed my arms, cursing myself for not thinking to wear a jumper. The air was crisp and cool, and I felt shivers down my spine as I walked down the stairs. 

There weren’t very many students around. The only people in the halls were the older students and the prefects doing their rounds. 

Just when I decided to head back to the common room, I heard a soft meow behind me. I froze. The cat’s meow sounded an awful lot like Bruce’s, but that was impossible. He literally fell out of a flying car. There was no way he could have survived that. 

I kept walking, but I heard it again. Then, I felt something fluffy against my leg. I looked down, and to my great surprise, Bruce was there, healthy and alive, rubbing his head affectionately against my leg. 

“Bruce!” I cried, scooping up the cat and stroking his fur. “I can’t believe it! How—” 

“Bruce!” Another voice called. I turned to see a tall, lean boy running towards us. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. 

“Bruce, there you are.” He looked at me in confusion. “Who are you? Why’s Bruce with you?” 

“He’s my cat. Why are you calling him?” 

“He can’t be your cat,” he responded. 

“He is. How else would I have known his name?”

“It’s on his collar.”

“Did you see me read it?”

He paused. “You’re right. So he is yours. I’ve been taking care of him while looking for his owner.” 

“Taking care of him? How did you find him?”

“It’s actually a crazy story,” he answered. “I caught him when he fell from the sky.” 

My eyes widened.  _ “What?”  _

“I was on the train with my friends, and we decided to stick our heads out of the window. I took it a step further, and stuck out half my body.” He ran a hand through his short dark brown hair and chuckled. “As soon as I did, I looked up, and saw something falling through the sky. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I used a Freezing Charm to slow it down so I could catch it. And let me tell you, I wasn’t expecting to catch a cat.” 

“Oh my God,” I murmured, tightening my grip on Bruce. “Well, thank you—er, what’s your name?” 

He stuck his hand out. “Oh, I probably should’ve mentioned that earlier. I’m Adrian. Adrian—”

“Pucey,” I finished, shaking his hand. “You’re one of Slytherin’s Chasers, right?”

He nodded. “That’s me. And you are…?” 

“Pepper Atkinson. I’m one of Gryffindor’s Chasers.” 

“That’s right,” he said, snapping his fingers. “I knew you looked familiar. You’re pretty good, you know?” 

“You really think so?” 

“All of us do, even if we hate to admit it.”

I snorted. “Sure.” 

“No, I’m serious. It’s not something they can deny.”

“I’m pretty sure Malfoy doesn’t think so.”

“Oh he does. He complains about you all the time.”

I rolled my eyes. “Typical. Well, you’re great too. That save during that match against Hufflepuff last year was insane!” 

“Thanks. Almost didn’t make it though.”

“Nonsense!” Bruce started to squirm in my arms. “Er—I better get going. Bruce is getting a tad irritated.” 

“Of course. That’s one special cat you’ve got there. Can I just ask one thing?”

“Sure.”

“How did your cat fall out of the  _ sky? _ ” 

“I was one of the students who drove the flying car to Hogwarts.” 

“That was you?” 

“Mm-hmm. Bruce fell out the window trying to attack one of the other boys in there.” 

“That’s crazy. It was nice to meet you, Pepper. I’ll see you at the next match.”

I smiled. “You too. Bye.” 

I turned on my heel and walked back to the common room with a newfound happiness. I couldn’t wait to tell my parents that Bruce was alive. They’d be thrilled. 

“Hey Pepper,” Ron greeted as I walked back in. 

“Is that— _ Bruce? _ ” Harry asked in disbelief. 

“Yup.” 

“Wha—how? I thought he was  _ dead! _ ” 

I grinned. “It’s a long story.”


	15. Feldgrau

_ I’m falling _

The next day was dreary. Every student seemed to be on edge after yesterday’s events, and I wasn’t entirely sure why. I knew it had something to do with the Chamber of Secrets, but I didn’t know what that was. I would’ve looked it up the night before, but I was too busy playing with Bruce. I resolved to look it up in the library later. 

I walked into Potions dreading the class. The first Quidditch match of the season was approaching, and Snape was being extra cruel to the Gryffindors. Luckily, I was paired with Theo, so I usually didn’t get too many points taken off. However, the same couldn’t be said for the others… 

“Today we’ll be brewing a Fire Protection Potion,” Snape said dully. “You have the rest of the period to do this.” 

I flipped to the correct page and read the instructions. It was fairly simple, and we were sure to earn good marks on it. 

“Here are the mushrooms,” Theo said as he set them down. “We need to cut them into thin, even pieces.” 

“We can both do that,” I replied. “That way, it’ll go by faster.” 

“So that was quite the scare yesterday, wasn’t it?” Theo asked as he sliced a mushroom.

“It was,” I answered. “Especially since my friends and I were the ones who found it in the first place.”

“Really? Did you happen to see who it was?”

I shook my head. “No. We only saw the aftermath.”

“It’s probably just a prank. Probably just some seventh years who wanted a good laugh.” 

“Wasn’t very funny if you ask me. Or Filch.”

“Oh right. His cat. Don’t you have a cat?”

I grinned. “I do.” 

“What—”

“Less talking and more stirring,” Snape barked. He glared at me and tucked his hands into the pockets of his robes. “5 points from Gryffindor.” 

“She didn’t even do anything!” Theo protested.

“She was talking.”

“Everyone else is talking.  _ I _ was talking. Are you going to take points from me?”

He narrowed his eyes. “No.”

As he stalked off to yell at Neville, Theo began apologizing profusely. 

“Don’t worry about it Theo,” I quipped. “You didn’t even do anything.”

“He can be such a git,” he mumbled. 

I giggled. “Tell me about it.”

We finished our potion with plenty of time leftover. After we turned it in to a very bitter Snape, we were free to converse quietly at our seats. 

“Your first match is coming up, isn’t it?” he asked.

I nodded. “It’s next week. Friday, I think.”

“Are you nervous?” 

“Not really. I’ve gotten used to the nerves. I just hope we beat Slytherin.”

“Well I don’t want you to  _ beat _ us,” he teased, “but I hope that you play well. In fact, I’m certain that you’ll play well.”

“You seem to have a lot of faith in me,” I said playfully. He gave me a serious look. 

“Pepper, we’re  _ Potions partners _ . We’re practically engaged by now.”

I laughed. “Okay, Theo.” 

After Potions ended, I made my way to DADA, where I had the great misfortune of sitting next to Malfoy  _ and _ enduring Lockhart’s ‘lessons’. 

“How’s your tongue?” I asked dryly as Lockhart ranted about his autobiography for the fourth time this week. 

His nose twitched. “Fine. It took Madam Pomfrey a long time to get it unstuck.” 

“Good.” 

“So what’s this about your cat?” 

“What?”

“I heard you in Potions when you were talking to Theo. You said that you have a cat.”

“I do.”

“Didn’t it die though?”

“Actually, no. He’s alive.”

“How? Didn’t he fall out of a window or something?”

“He did, but somebody saved him, so he’s alive. I found him last night.” 

“That’s impossible.”

“Would you like to see him for yourself? He’s in my room, but I doubt you’d want to go in there. Too many Mudblood germs, right?” 

He stuck his chin into the air. “Exactly.” 

We were silent as Lockhart continued to ramble. 

“I think my love for hair care started when I was ten—wait, was it nine?—no it was definitely ten. I saw how everyone had ugly brown hair and I thanked the heavens that I was blessed with the luscious blonde curls.” 

“Does he ever get sick of himself?” he murmured.

“How could you say that?” I said in mock offense. “That right there is  _ the  _ Gilderoy Lockhart, Malfoy. Show some respect!” 

He chuckled. “Oh, you’re right. My sincerest of apologies for offending Mr. Lockhart.”

“You better be. You should be  _ thankful _ that he’s gracing us with his presence. He’s better than Q-Quirrell.” 

“Everybody’s better than Quirrell. I’d rather obliviate myself than listen to another one of his stuttering lectures.” 

“Obliviate?” I questioned. “What’s that? Is it a spell?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Merlin Mudblood, you really are something else.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

We had just started learning about turning animals into water goblets in Transfiguration when Hermione asked Professor McGonagall about the Chamber of Secrets. 

“My subject is Transfiguration, Miss Granger,” she replied stiffly.

“Yes Professor, but there’s very little written about the Chamber of Secrets, and for those of us with personal interest in the subject, it’s very disturbing.” 

McGonagall sighed. “Very well.  You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Three of the founders co-existed quite harmoniously. One did not.”

Ron snorted from the seat behind me. “Three guesses who.”

“Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. In other words, purebloods. Unable to sway the others, he decided to leave the school. 

According to legend, Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in this castle, known as the Chamber of Secrets. Shortly before departing, he sealed it until that time when his own true heir returned to the school. The heir alone would be able to open the Chamber of Secrets and unleash the horror within, and by so doing, purge the school of all those who, in Slytherin's view, were unworthy to study magic.”

“Muggle-borns,” Hermione stated. I heard Malfoy snicker, and I fought the urge to tell him off during class. 

“Yes. Naturally the school has been searched many times for such a chamber, and it has never been found.” 

“Professor?”

“Yes, Miss Atkinson?” 

“What exactly does legend tell us lies in the Chamber?” 

She frowned. “The Chamber is said to be home to something which only the heir of Slytherin can control. It is said to be home to a monster.” 

“Do you think it’s true?” Ron asked us after class ended. “Do you think there’s really a Chamber of Secrets?” 

“Yes,” I answered. “Couldn’t you see how worried McGonagall looked?”

“Wait a minute,” Harry contemplated. “If there really is a Chamber of Secrets, and it’s really been opened, then that means—”

“The heir of Slytherin has returned to Hogwarts,” Hermione finished. “The question is, who is it?”

“Let’s think,” Ron satirized, tapping a finger against his chin. “Who do we know who thinks all Muggle-borns are scum?” 

“If you’re talking about Malfoy,” Hermione began.

“Of course!” I agreed. “You heard him last night.  _ You’ll be next, Mudbloods! _ ”

“I heard him. But Malfoy, the heir of Slytherin?” 

“Maybe they’re right, Hermione,” Harry suggested. “I mean, look at his family. The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin for centuries.” 

“Crabbe and Goyle must know,” Ron voiced. “Maybe we can trick them into telling us.” 

“Even they aren’t that thick,” Hermione responded. She paused, seemingly thinking of another option. “But there might be another way. Mind you, it would be very difficult. Not to mention we’d be breaking about fifty school rules. And—”

“Let’s do it,” I cut in. “When can we start?”

“Follow me.” 

We followed Hermione to the library, where she wove through the aisles with expertise. She pulled a thick book off of a shelf and flipped it open. 

“Here it is. Polyjuice Potion.” She pointed at a page in the book with the most complex set of instructions I had ever seen.  _ “Properly brewed, the Polyjuice Potion allows the drinker to transform himself temporarily into the physical form of another.” _

“So if Harry and I drink that,” Ron orated, “does that mean we’d turn into Crabbe and Goyle?” 

“Yes.” 

“Wicked! Malfoy will tell us everything!” 

“Can we even make this?” I speculated, reading the instructions. “It looks really complicated.”

“It is,” Hermione answered. “It’ll take a month to make.”

“A month?” Harry gasped. “But Hermione, if Malfoy is the heir of Slytherin, he could attack half the Muggle-borns in the school by then.”

“I know. But what other option do we have?” 

∆ ∆ ∆

The rest of the week passed quickly. Hermione and I, being the best Potions students out of the four of us, began preparing the Polyjuice Potion. It was a bit tricky getting the ingredients, but I managed to sneak some past Snape while he was busy yelling at Neville. 

Soon, it was time for our Quidditch match. I wasn’t very nervous, although the same couldn’t be said for Wood. He seemed like he was about to burst from nerves. Before the match, he gave us a quick pep talk. 

“The Slytherins might have better brooms, but we have better players,” he declared. “We’ve got excellent Chasers, magnificent Beaters, and one hell of a Seeker, all of which made this team  _ fairly _ . We got this.” 

We flew out onto the pitch and took our places. 

“Hey Pepper!” I turned to see Adrian Pucey waving at me from his spot next to Graham Montague. 

“Hey Adrian!” I noticed Malfoy scowl at our encounter, and I threw him a glare. He looked at the teachers’ seating. According to Theo, Malfoy’s snobby father had come to watch his precious son at his first Quidditch match. I wondered how disappointed he’d be if he lost. 

Maybe he’d take his brooms back. 

“On my whistle,” Madam Hooch called. She blew her whistle, threw the Quaffle in the air, and I made a mad grab for it. I managed to shove past bulky Flint, and I sped towards their goal post. 

“Gryffindor’s in possession!” Lee Jordan announced. “And Atkinson scores! 10 points to Gryffindor!” 

Feeling exhilarated, I continued to focus on the match. However, my feeling didn’t last very long. Slytherin’s brooms were giving them quite the upper-hand, and they sped past us before we even knew what hit us. This continued the entire match, and we only managed to score three times. 

“Another goal for Slytherin,” Lee grumbled. “They lead Gryffindor ninety to thirty.”

“All right there, Scarhead?” Malfoy taunted as Harry nearly missed a Bludger. 

“Watch yourself Harry!” Wood yelled, oblivious to the Bludger that was making its way towards him. It hit his broom and he flew in circles. 

Harry kept dodging the Bludger, which seemed dead set on hitting him and only him. I couldn’t watch for long though, since I had to focus on catching the Quaffle. It proved to be difficult thanks to our outdated brooms and Malfoy’s yelling. 

“Training for the ballet, Potter?” He mocked. As he jeered, the Snitch flew right next to his ear. I laughed out loud as Harry sped after it, leaving Malfoy fumbling behind him.

But the Bludger still wouldn’t leave him alone. Both Harry and Malfoy worked to avoid it as they flew around the pitch. 

During this time, Katie Bell managed to gain possession of the Quaffle, and she tossed it to me. I shoved past Adrian, pushed Flint, and threw it as hard as I could. Unfortunately, Montague flew in front of me and snatched it. 

“Nice try, Mudblood!” 

I was about to retort when something hit the tail of my broom. I went spiraling downwards, and landed on the floor, with my Nimbus 2000 broken in half. 

Before I could process anything, something else slapped me across the face. I clutched my face, groaning. Once my vision was restored, I noticed that I had been pelted by a Nimbus 2001. 

Malfoy’s Nimbus 2001.

He sat a few feet away from me with his hands around his stomach. I was about to ask him what happened, but I was smacked in the face  _ again _ —but this time by Harry’s hand. 

“Harry are you okay?” I asked. 

He grinned and held up the Snitch. 

“Gryffindor wins!” Lee cried gleefully. 

“Are you—” Before Harry could finish speaking, the Bludger headed our way. We scrambled away, trying to avoid further injury. 

_ “Finite incantatem!”  _ Hermione yelled. 

The Bludger exploded into small pieces as Hermione, Ron, Hagrid and others ran towards us. 

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked. 

I nodded. “My head just hurts. I probably have a concussion or something.”

“And you Harry?” 

“I think my arm’s broken,” he replied, holding up his arm. 

Lockhart emerged from the crowd. “Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll fix that arm of yours right away.” 

Harry’s eyes widened. “No! No, not you!” 

Lockhart merely chuckled. “Poor boy. He doesn’t even know what he’s talking about.” He grabbed Harry’s arm. “This won’t hurt a bit.  _ Brackium emendo! _ ” 

Harry’s arm went limp. I shrieked once I realized that it was completely  _ boneless _ . 

“What did you do to him?” I demanded. Harry held his arm in horror. 

“Well, you see, that can sometimes happen,” Lockhart stammered. “But—er—the bones aren’t broken anymore!” 

“There aren’t even any bones left!” Hagrid exclaimed. 

“Well never mind that,” Lockhart dismissed. He turned to me. “Now I heard you say that you have a concussion?” 

I scooted away from him. “Oh hell no. You’re not touching me.” 

“But—” 

Luckily, Hagrid had the common sense to escort Harry and I to the Hospital Wing. When we got there, Malfoy whimpered in his bed with the rest of the Slytherin team around him. 

“Oh Mr. Malfoy, stop making such a fuss. You can go,” Madam Pomfrey barked. As it turns out, I did have a concussion, but it was nothing that a simple potion couldn’t fix. I didn’t even need to stay overnight. 

The same couldn’t be said for Harry though. 

“You should’ve been brought straight to me,” she grumbled to Harry, holding a bottle that looked like a skeleton. “I can mend bones in a heartbeat. But growing them back…” 

“But you’ll be able to, right?” I questioned. 

“Oh I’ll be able to, but it’ll be painful. You’re in for a rough night, Mr. Potter. Regrowing bones is a nasty business.” She poured some of the liquid into a goblet and handed it to Harry, who took a gulp. He spit it out almost immediately. 

“Well what did you expect? Pumpkin juice?” Madam Pomfrey groused, pouring him another cup which this time, he drank. 

“You all need to leave,” she said to us. “Mr. Potter needs to rest.” 

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team congratulated him and left. 

“Spectacular job today Atkinson,” Wood praised as we started to leave the ward. He frowned, and looked around. “Where’s your broom?” 

I sighed. “That stupid Bludger broke it.”

“It broke?” Wood and I turned to see Adrian Pucey standing by Malfoy’s bed. 

“Unfortunately,” I answered, pausing by the whining git’s bed. “I’m going to have to write home to see if I can get a new one, but I won’t ask for another Nimbus. They’re quite expensive, and I don’t want to ask too much. I reckon a Cleansweep will do just fine.” 

“That’s terrible,” he replied. “I’m terribly sorry. I wish I could help.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay. There’s nothing you can do it about.”

“I don’t know about that.”

I wondered what he meant, but didn’t say anything else. “At least I didn’t break my arm. At least I still have all of my bones.” 

“You broke your broom?” Malfoy asked. 

“When I fell, yeah. How are you?” 

“Terrible,” he said dramatically. “I almost died.” 

I stifled a laugh, remembering last year’s Forbidden Forest incident. “Again?” 

He scowled. “This school has it in for me, I swear.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

The next morning, Harry told us about his interesting experience in the Hospital Wing. He told us all about the petrification of Colin Creevey, and Dobby the house elf’s secret message. 

“So it’s been opened before?” Hermione inquired as she stirred the potion. I worked on crushing the lacewing flies while Harry and Ron leaned against one of the bathroom stalls. 

“Of course! Don’t you see?” Ron remarked. “Lucius Malfoy must have opened it when he was at school here, and now he’s taught Malfoy how to do it.”

“Maybe,” Hermione replied. “But we’ll have to wait until the Polyjuice Potion is finished to see. Have you finished the lacewing flies yet?” 

“Almost.” 

“Why are we brewing this potion in broad daylight, in the middle of a girls’ bathroom? Won’t we get caught?” Ron inquired. 

I let out a snort. “No. No one ever comes in here.”

“Why?” 

“Moaning Myrtle.” 

“Who?” 

“Moaning Myrtle.”

“Who’s Moaning Myrtle?” 

“I’m Moaning Myrtle!” A shrill voice shrieked. Moaning Myrtle was a ghost who haunted the second floor girls’ bathroom. She tended to be quite noisy and sensitive, so not many people used this restroom. “I wouldn’t expect you to know me! Who would ever talk about ugly, miserable, moping, Moaning Myrtle?” She let out a cry of anguish as she disappeared into one of the sinks. 

“She’s a bit sensitive,” I commented.

“A bit?” 

Hermione and I continued to prepare the potion. 

“You’re going to need a bit of the person you want to change into,” Hermione communicated as she heated the cauldron. “Like a hair or something.” 

“How are we supposed to get a clump of hair from Crabbe or Goyle?” Ron challenged. “A hug?” 

“I don’t know!” Hermione snapped. “I’m just telling you that you’ll need one.” 

“We’ll get it once the potion’s ready,” Harry interjected. “I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” 

“Who are we going to turn into, Hermione?” I wondered aloud. 

“There’s a few Slytherin girls we could choose from.”

I shuddered. “At least we won’t need a hair from Crabbe.”

Ron scowled. “Maybe you should turn into Crabbe. Why should we?” 

“Because,” I answered. “I’ll only be Crabbe in your dreams, Ronald.” 

“That sounds like a nightmare, actually.” 


	16. Citrine

_ They got the answers we just wish we had  _

Due to recent events, Lockhart got permission from Dumbledore to start a dueling club. The whole point was to teach us how to defend ourselves, but with Lockhart as our teacher, I doubted that we’d learn much. 

Still, everyone gathered in the Great Hall to hear what he had to say. 

“In light of the dark events of recent weeks,” he began, “Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Dueling Club to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves, as I myself have done on countless occasions. For full details, see my published works.” He winked at the crowd and I fought the urge to gag. 

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape.” Snape stood across from him, looking rather displeased. “He has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry, you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him.” 

He faced Snape and held his wand up in a way that was meant to be menacing, but ended up looking comical. 

“On the count of three. One… two… three—”

_ “Expelliarmus!”  _

The spell threw Lockhart onto his back. He quickly scrambled to his feet and dusted off his clothes. 

“Do you think he’s alright?” Hermione asked us, her eyes bright with worry.

Ron snorted. “Who cares?”

“An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape,” Lockhart remarked. “But if you don’t mind me saying, it was pretty obvious what you were about to do. And if I had wanted to stop you, it would have been quite simple.”

Snape was unimpressed. “Perhaps it would be prudent to teach students how to block unfriendly spells, Professor.” 

“An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape! Let’s have a volunteer pair. What about Potter and Weasley?”

Snape glanced at Ron with distaste. “Weasley’s wand causes devastation with even the simplest of spells. We’ll be sending Potter to the Hospital Wing in a matchbox. Might I suggest someone from my own house? Malfoy, perhaps?” 

Lockhart nodded his approval, and the two boys made their way to the platform. 

“I hope he rips Malfoy to shreds,” Ron said savagely. 

“Ron!” Hermione scolded. “That’s not very nice.” 

“Neither is Malfoy,” I added. 

“Wands at the ready!” Lockhart boomed.

They both drew their wands and shot each other dirty glares. 

“Scared, Potter?” Malfoy spat. 

“You wish.” 

“Now on the count of three, cast your charms to disarm your partner,” Lockhart instructed. “ _ Only _ to disarm. One, two—”

_ “Everte statum!”  _ Malfoy’s spell flung Harry across the platform. 

“That little cheat!” Ron exclaimed. 

“Are we surprised though?” I remarked. 

Harry stood up.  _ “Rictumsempra!”  _

Now it was Malfoy’s turn to fly across the stage. He landed with a thud in front of a furious Snape, who hoisted him to his feet. 

_ “Serpensortia!”  _ A snake shot out from the tip of his wand. It hissed and slithered around.

“Don’t worry,” Lockhart shouted. “I’ll get rid of it!  _ Alarte ascendare! _ ” As expected, Lockhart’s spell wasn’t effective. It launched the snake into the air, which only angered it. It started to slither its way to a Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff in our year. 

Harry stepped closer to the snake and started  _ hissing _ at it. Everyone broke into whispers.

“What is he doing?” I asked Ron and Hermione, who were both wide eyed with shock. 

“I don’t believe it! He’s a Parselmouth!” Ron exclaimed.

“A  _ what? _ ” 

“A Parselmouth,” Hermione repeated. “It means he can speak to snakes.” 

We all watched as Harry continued to communicate with the snake. The snake hissed in response, and continued to slither towards Justin. It was almost as if he were  _ encouraging  _ the snake to attack Justin. But Harry wouldn’t do that. I knew that as much as I knew my name to be Pepper. Everyone was mesmerized, including Lockhart and Snape. 

_ “Vipera evanesca!”  _ Snape muttered once he snapped out of his daze. Everyone stared at Harry, and a furious Justin Finch-Fletchley. 

“What are you playing at?” he shouted, trembling with rage. 

“What do you mean?” a voice called out. We all turned to see Petunia Vixens standing with the Slytherins. “He told the snake to leave Justin alone!” 

More whispers broke out. 

“That’s enough!” Snape barked. He then turned to Petunia and scowled. “Miss Vixens, please refrain from speaking unless you’re asked to.” 

Petunia ducked her head. Snape preferred all Slytherins, but for some reason, he despised Petunia nearly as much as he despised Harry. I was surprised to hear him belittle her like that, especially since she just discovered that she could speak to snakes. 

Lockhart dismissed us, and I walked towards Petunia. 

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Snape was a real git back there.”

She shrugged. “I’m alright. I’m used to it. But I’m not sure why he hates me so much?” 

“I don’t think it’s personal,” I replied. “He hates all Gryffindors, but he really dislikes Harry and I.” 

“I just can’t believe Justin was so rude to Harry! He was trying to help him! Didn’t he hear?” 

“No, he didn’t,” I answered. “Because Harry was speaking Parseltongue.”

“Parseltongue? What is that?” 

“Snake language. You can speak it too.”

“I can?”

“Apparently.”

She tossed her red hair over her shoulder. “But I’m a Muggle-born.”

“I don’t think it matters.” 

She sighed. “Dear God. I better go do some research. I’ll see you around, Pepper. Thanks for checking up on me.” 

I smiled. “Of course. Bye!” 

I ran to catch up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They were also talking about the snake incident.

“You can talk to snakes,” said Hermione.

“I know,” Harry responded, putting his hands into his pockets. “I mean, I accidentally set a python on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once—”

_ “What?”  _

“Once! But so what? I bet loads of people here can do it. I mean, Petunia understood me.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, Harry. This isn’t a common gift. The fact that she’s also a Parselmouth is a huge coincidence. This is bad. Really bad.”

“What’s bad? If I hadn’t told that snake not to attack Justin—”

“So that’s what you said!” Ron interrupted. Harry shot him an annoyed glance.

“You were there! You  _ heard _ me!” 

“I heard you speaking Parseltongue,” Ron enunciated. “You know, snake language.”

“I spoke a different language? But how? I didn’t even realize it.”

“I don’t know,” was Hermione’s response. “But it sounded like you were egging the snake on.”

_ “Egging the snake on?” _

“Listen to me, Harry,” Hermione ordered. “There’s a reason the symbol of Slytherin is a serpent. Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth. He could talk to snakes, too.”

“Exactly!” Ron added. “Now the whole school’s going to thin you’re his great-great grandson or something.”

“But I’m not! I can’t be!”

“He lived a thousand years ago. For all we know, you could be,” Hermione said darkly. 

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” I said hastily. “I think we would’ve known by now. The Potters are really well-known, aren’t they?” 

“Well yes, but—”

“I don’t think it’s Harry,” I defended. “I still think it’s Malfoy. Let’s continue to check him out. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could speak it too.” 

As we walked to our room, Harry shot me a weak smile. 

“It’ll be okay,” I whispered. “Everything will be fine.”

∆ ∆ ∆

“Atkinson!” 

I looked up from my oatmeal to see Fred speed walking towards me. “What?” 

He sat down next to me. “We are in desperate need of your assistance.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of assistance?” 

He looked around. “You see that Slytherin over there?” 

I followed his gaze to Snape at the staff table. “Snape?” 

“That’s the one. You see, George and I have had a bit of a row with him and—”

“You need my help getting revenge,” I concluded. 

He grinned. “Precisely.” 

“Okay.” I looked around the Great Hall. “Where’s George?”

“Preparing the prank. Are you in?”

I swallowed one last spoonful of oatmeal. “Hell yeah.” 

We stood up and exited the Great Hall. Fred led me down a corridor, looking over his shoulder every so often. 

“So what exactly do you need me to do?” 

“You need to sneak into Snape’s room.”

“Me? Why not you two?”

“Because we’re not small enough.”

I frowned. “Do you know how a door works?” 

He groaned. “We’re not using a door, Pepper.”

“Then—”

“There you are!” George interrupted. “Hurry up!” 

“We’re going to use a spell to create a small hole through the door. You’re going to crawl through it, and put this into his shampoo. Make sure you mix it.” He handed me a small bottle filled with an orangey-red liquid.

“Hair dye? But his hair’s black. You’d need to bleach it first. Besides, can’t he just use a spell to dye it back?” 

“We added bleach into it,” Fred explained. “And it’s not just any hair dye, Pep. It lasts for a whole month, and it can’t be reversed by any magic.” 

“And the best part is the color,” George interjected, fluffing his own carrot-colored hair. “Can you guess what color?” 

“Let me guess,” I said, tapping my finger against my chin in mock contemplation. “Could it be—oh, I don’t know—orange?” 

“Exactly!” 

I giggled. “He’s going to be so angry when he realizes he’s stuck with Weasley hair for a whole month!” 

“Well, hurry up then. Fred and I will keep watch.” George pulled out his wand, made sure the coast was clear, and then conjured a small entrance. 

“Go. We’ll yell if he’s coming.”

“And if he’s coming, what do I do?”

“Hide.”

I nodded and climbed inside. It was exactly as I expected Snape’s room to look like. There wasn’t a spot of color anywhere. Everything was black. Black chairs, black tables, black sofas, black curtains, black rugs, black everything. It felt like walking into a funeral home. 

Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly made my way to the bathroom, which was also black. I ripped open his shower curtain and hunted for his shampoo bottle. Once I found it, I emptied the contents of the bottle into it, and stirred it until I was sure that it was properly mixed. I placed the bottle back to its original spot, and walked out of the bathroom, placing the empty bottle of hair dye into my pocket. 

As I started to walk back, I noticed something on Snape’s desk. It wasn’t black like everything else, and I was curious, so I went to it. It was a thick white scrapbook. The cover was plain, except for a tree painted on the cover. 

The rest of his desk was clear. No parchment, no ink bottles, no quills—nothing. I went to open the book, wondering what could be so important about the book since it broke every organizational method he had. 

“PEPPER!” 

I snapped my neck up at the sound of Fred’s voice. I ran towards the exit, where both twins were waving furiously at me. 

“He’s coming! Hurry!” 

George grabbed my hands and pulled me out of his room. Once I was on my feet, he started running, practically dragging me across the corridors until we reached the Great Hall.

“Did—you—do—it—” Fred asked, panting. 

“Yes,” I replied. “But next time, don’t run so quickly.”

“We had to,” George quipped. “Otherwise we would’ve gotten caught.”

“What’s his room like?” Fred inquired after we caught our breaths. “There’s probably some really creepy stuff in there. Did you see any skulls?”

I laughed. “No skulls. There’s nothing, really. It’s just all black. Except for—”

“Except for what?”

“Well, he has this book on his desk. A scrapbook. I was going to open it, but that’s when you called me.”

“I wish we knew what was in it. Maybe can we go check it out the next time we prank him.” 

I grinned. “Definitely.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

“The wand motion for a Dancing Charm is… up then down,” I whispered to myself. “Or is it down then up?” 

I was in the library later that night, trying to work on my Charms homework. Harry and Ron were avoiding theirs, and Hermione had finished hers ages ago, so I decided to head to the library for some quiet. 

“Or is it side to side?” I groaned and laid my head down. 

“It’s down then up.”

I looked up to see Malfoy in front of my table. He was carrying an armful of books, and had a smug look on his face. 

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“No problem, Mud.” He placed his books across from me and sat down. 

“What are you doing?” I asked as he opened his Charms textbook.

“Sitting down.” 

I scowled. “I can see that. I mean, why are you sitting with me?”

“I’m not sitting with  _ you _ . I’m simply sitting down to do my Charms homework,” he replied nonchalantly. 

“But why—”

“Does your dirty blood muddle your brain too? Look around. There’s nowhere else to sit.” 

I glanced around the library and realized that he was right. There wasn’t a single empty seat in sight. 

“Well can’t you go to your common room or something?” 

“Crabbe and Goyle are incredibly stupid. I don’t need them copying down my work. Besides, if  _ I _ bother  _ you _ so much, why can’t you leave?” 

“I was here first. Besides, I need the quiet.” 

“Then stop whining and do your work.” 

I rolled my eyes and went back to my assignment. After scribbling Malfoy’s answer, I realized that I didn’t know any of the other answers. As I started debating whether or not I should go ask Hermione, Malfoy cleared his throat. 

“What?” I asked irritably. 

“Confused?” 

“No, I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“I said I’m fine,” I repeated. 

“Then what’s the answer to number three?”

“It’s—er—”

“Just let me help you, Atkinson. You clearly need it. It’s sad, really.”

I gritted my teeth and relented. “Fine.”

He started moving his chair over. 

“What are you doing?” 

He sighed. “I need to  _ see _ your paper.”

He set his chair next to me and I pushed the paper towards him and he read the question aloud. 

“What’s the wand movement for the Tickling Charm?” 

“Er—isn’t it a v shape?” 

“Don’t be stupid,” he quipped, writing his name on his paper in his elegant cursive. “That’s the movement for a Shrinking Charm. Think about it. It’s the  _ Tickling Charm _ .”

“I heard you the first time. How is that supposed to help?”

“Just think of things that make you ticklish,” he suggested. 

“I don’t get ticklish,” I replied.

He seemed amazed at this piece of information. “At all?” 

I shook my head. “At all. It’s quite weird, actually, since both of my parents are extremely ticklish.”

“It can’t be possible to not be ticklish. It just can’t be.”

I suppressed a smile. “Are  _ you _ ticklish, Malfoy?”

“Everyone’s ticklish, Atkinson.”

“Not me.”

“Sure you are.”

“I’m really—”

“You are ticklish. You just need to find out where.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“Now, what would make someone ticklish?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, running my hands through my hair. “Someone tickling you?”

“Well that’s obvious, Atkinson. Think of  _ material  _ things.”

I sighed and tried to think about what made my parents and friends ticklish. Mum and Dad recoiled from the slightest of touches, and Harry once tickled Hermione with a— “A feather?” I asked. 

“Took you long enough. So the wand movement is—”

“A feather!” 

“Finally. I thought I was going to have to spell it out for you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thank you.”

“Now I assume that you know the incantation.”

“It’s the one Harry used to knock you off your feet,” I said dryly. He scowled and I chuckled as I wrote it down.

It took us nearly an hour to finish the Charms homework. For some reason, Malfoy seemed pretty set on making sure that I understood the Charms. And after a lot of arguing and insults, I did. But his help didn’t end there, because I also had a great deal of trouble with the Transfiguration assignment. 

“Merlin, it would be easier to teach your broomstick these spells,” he muttered. 

“I don’t have one,” I shared. “So you’d have to teach one of the many that you have.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I’m sure that you have more than one. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a broom for home, a broom for school, a broom for rainy days, a broom for—”

“No, not that,” he snapped. “What do you mean that you don’t have a broom? I thought you wrote home to get a new one.”

“I did, but my parents are Muggles, Malfoy. They can’t exactly go to Diagon Alley without me, can they? I’m going to have to wait until the holidays.”

“But what about the games?”

“I’ll just borrow one of the school brooms. That’s what I’ve been doing for practices anyway.”

“But those are terrible.”

“I know, but I don’t really have a choice, Malfoy. It works and that’s all that matters.”

He reached for a fresh sheet of parchment just as I reached to dip my quill in ink. Our hands collided, and he quickly withdrew. 

“Careful, Atkinson! Germs!” 

I rolled my eyes. “Says you. I think I caught the Pureprick disease.” 

“You  _ wish _ you could catch the Pureprick disease.”

“As if,” I scoffed. “And do yourself a favor and buy some gloves. Your hands are freezing.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied dryly. “Now back to the homework. We don’t have all day, you know.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

Even though I hated to admit it, doing homework with Malfoy really helped. While Hermione was an excellent student, she usually had trouble explaining it to others because it came so naturally to her. Malfoy on the other hand, had a way that just seemed to make it click. 

I ended up getting a perfect score on all of the assignments we did together, much to Harry and Ron’s confusion. They began to regard me as some sort of genius, but I quickly denied that. 

“I didn’t do that by myself,” I said, rocking back and forth in a chair in the library. Harry, Ron, and I usually didn’t go to the library on the weekends, but Hermione had insisted on us studying for the Herbology exam together. The three of us sat at the table while she hunted for helpful books. 

“Did Hermione help you?” Ron questioned, looking around for her. “Because she just gives loads of hints that aren’t very helpful.”

“No Hermione didn’t help me. Malfoy did.”

Ron’s jaw dropped.  _ “Malfoy?”  _

“Mm-hmm.”

“But why would he help you?” Hermione asked, coming back from the shelves with a few thick books. 

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We were forced to sit at the same table, and he just did. I’m not complaining, considering I got perfect marks on the assignment.” 

“But Malfoy? He’s the Heir of Slytherin! He could have  _ killed _ you,” Ron pressed. 

“I know he is,” I stated. “But would he really kill me in a crowded library? That doesn’t even make sense!” 

“She’s right,” Harry added. 

“But why would he help you? He hates you.”

“I don’t know, okay? He was just there. He’ll probably make fun of my stupidity later. And it’s not like we’re going to be friends now.”

“I don’t trust him,” Ron continued.

“Neither do I,” I agreed. “Just because he helped me not fail doesn’t mean that I trust him.”

“Hey,” Harry began, scanning his work. “How do you—”

“Don’t be stupid, Hannah,” Ernie Macmillan exclaimed rather loudly. “Of course it’s him.” He along with a few other Hufflepuffs looked our way. More specifically, Harry’s way. They shot him nasty glares.

Harry sighed. “I’ll see you back in the common room.”

“Harry, wait—”

“Let him go, Pepper,” Ron interjected, pulling my sleeve down. “Just let him go.”

Turns out that I should not have let him go. Once he left, Harry found Justin Finch-Fletchley’s petrified body, and everyone thought it was him, especially the Hufflepuffs. Luckily, Dumbledore believed Harry, and everything was settled. 

Well, as settled as it could be, anyway. The Hufflepuffs still vehemently believed that Harry had attacked Justin, and when they weren’t avoiding him, they were whispering rather nasty things within earshot. 

After a long night in the library, I headed back to the common room. I had stayed late to make sure that my Potions essay was flawless, even working with Theo for part of it. My eyes fluttered, threatening to close. I stumbled through the corridors, desperate to crawl into my warm bed and sleep. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

I turned around. “What do you want, Malfoy?” 

He caught up to me. “I asked what you were doing.”

“Walking.”

He rolled his eyes. “I can see that Atkinson, but why are you walking alone so late at night?”

“I was in the library, and now I’m going to my room. Since when do you patrol the corridors?” 

“I don’t,” he replied. “I was just taking a walk when I stumbled upon you.”

“And you wanted to say hello, or…?”

“I wanted to see why you were out and about so late at night.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said dryly. 

“Yes, I suppose you could. But the difference is that it’s not safe for you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you? There’s already been two attacks on Mudbloods. Do you fancy being the third?”

“No, but I needed to get my work done.”

“It’s not safe,” he repeated. 

“Well what do you think I should do? Get a pureblood to escort me from room to room? I think I’ll be fine on my own.”

“So you say. I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

I snorted. “And since when do you care about me?”

“I don’t. It’s just—”

“Am I still your favorite Mudblood?”

He scowled. “No, I’m just saying that it’s not safe. Besides, I still need someone to bully.”

I pursed my lips. “Great. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way. I’m too tired to continue this lovely conversation.”

“I wouldn’t call it a conversation,” he said. “I’d call it more of a… warning, I guess.”

“A warning against what?”

“Walking around so late at night unprotected. Merlin knows what’s lurking in this school.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” I muttered under my breath, growing more and more nervous. Would he attack me now? I started walking faster. 

“What did you say?”

“I said goodbye, Malfoy.” 

And with that, I left him in the corridor, walking as fast as I could back to the common room. He was right. It wasn’t safe. 

And he knew that. 

“And he didn’t kill you?” Ron questioned the next morning. 

I shook my head. “No.” 

“Weird. He had the chance!” 

“Maybe this means that he isn’t the Heir of Slytherin,” Hermione remarked, stirring the potion.

“He has to be,” Ron insisted hotly. “Who else could it be?” 

“I don’t know. But I just don’t think he is. I mean, he didn’t attack Pepper, and they were alone.”

“He probably wanted to save her for last,” he replied. “He does seem to hate her more.”

“I guess, but—”

“It’s almost ready,” I said, looking at the cauldron. “Look.”

Hermione peered into the cauldron. “It’ll be ready in about two weeks. Just in time for break.” 

“Wonderful,” Ron chirped. “Now let’s go to breakfast. I’m starving.”

We secured our concoction and strolled to breakfast. I was halfway through my eggs when an unfamiliar owl dropped a large package in my lap. 

“Who’s that from?” Harry asked. 

I shrugged and opened the package. To my surprise, a brand-new Nimbus 2001 was packaged neatly in wrapping paper. 

“Who—what—how?” I stammered. 

“Look!” Ron exclaimed, pointing at the package. “There’s a card!” 

I glanced at the handwriting. I didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t Mum’s or Dad’s. Both of their handwriting was messy, and I had never seen such fine print. And it certainly wasn’t one of my friends’ writing. I wasn’t sure who it could be out of anyone else I knew, since most people here wrote in cursive. The letters on the card were the neatest I had ever seen, with perfect round o’s and finely curved s’s. 

“What does it say? Who is it from?”

“I don’t know.” 

I cleared my throat and read the card aloud. 

“Try not to fall this time.” 


	17. Madder

_ I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life  _

I was on the edge of my seat during Potions. Snape had not shown up to breakfast, and I highly suspected that it was due to the unfortunate hair dye in his shampoo bottle. He had also been absent all weekend, which was very much unlike him. He usually likes to stalk the corridors to see if he could punish any poor, unsuspecting Gryffindors. 

“Why are you so jumpy?” Theo asked, eyeing my eager expression as we waited for Snape. 

“Because—”

The door slammed open and I spun around in my seat. I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep myself from laughing once I saw him. 

Snape had hair the exact same shade as Ron’s. It greatly contrasted with his black robes, and he had a face of what can only be described as pure anger as he strode to the front of the classroom. 

The entire classroom, even the Slytherins, stifled giggles. We all knew better than to laugh at Snape. 

“What the hell happened to him?” Theo wondered as he tried not to laugh. He then slowly turned to me. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

I grinned. “I may or may not have aided in his little makeover.”

“Pepper!” 

“I think he looks really nice,” I chuckled. “Red’s definitely his color.”

Snape did not look pleased with his new hairstyle. In fact, he seemed a bit upset. But to be fair, I would be upset too if a few students managed to make my hair red for a full month without a counter-curse. Especially since the color represented the house I hated and some of the students I despised. 

“We have a lot to do today,” he began in a monotonous voice. 

“What did you do?” Theo whispered. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said innocently. He chuckled and shook his head. 

“Today, we will be—WEASLEY!” Snape banged his hands on his desk. 

Ron actually jumped out of his seat, his face full of fear. 

“Y-yes sir?” he stuttered. 

“Why were you just talking?” 

“I wasn’t talking, sir.”

“Yes, you were. I heard whispering.”

“It wasn’t him, Professor,” Lavender Brown cut in. “It was—”

“Silence, Miss Brown! I did not give you permission to speak!” he bellowed. 

“But—” 

“20 points from Gryffindor!” Snape snapped. “10 for Weasley’s interruptions, and 10 for Miss Brown’s nosiness.” 

We knew better than to protest. Every Gryffindor kept their head down as most of the Slytherins cackled. 

“Serves them right,” Malfoy drawled loudly. “They’re always doing what they’re not supposed to.”

I opened my mouth to retort but Theo grabbed my arm. 

“Don’t,” he whispered. “You’re just going to make it worse.” 

I nodded, glad that he had restrained me. “You’re right.” 

I was starting to think that our prank wasn’t a good idea. Snape must have deducted at least fifteen more points from Gryffindor for the littlest offenses. Parvati sneezed too loudly, Neville didn’t stir his potion correctly, and I walked too slowly. 

I knew that Gryffindor house and the Weasleys bothered him, but I didn’t think it was to such an extent. It sucked all of the joy out of the prank.

We left the class  _ trembling _ . Several students seemed like they were going to cry, and a few actually did. 

“That was rubbish!” Ron exclaimed as we strolled down the corridor. “He must have taken all of our points away!”

“I have a confession to make,” I muttered. The three of them turned to face me. “But you can’t tell anyone, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Fred, George, and I pranked Snape’s hair,” I whispered. “We put hair dye into his shampoo. But it was supposed to be funny! We didn’t think he’d lash out like this!” 

“Pepper, that was so irresponsible!” Hermione scolded. “You could have gotten caught! Imagine how much detention you’d get for sneaking into a teacher’s room!” 

“I know, I know,” I dismissed. “But that’s not the point. Now I feel responsible for his anger towards everyone.”

“It’s not your fault,” Harry said firmly. “You didn’t know he’d get mad.”

“Harry’s right,” Ron added. “And even if you had known, you wouldn’t have done it.”

I sighed and played with the sleeve of my robe. “I guess you’re right, but still. I didn’t expect him to get that mad.”

“Me either,” Hermione inputted. “I mean, it’s just hair dye. It’ll come out soon, right?”

I scratched the back of my neck sheepishly. “In a month.”

_ “A month?!”  _

“I know, I know, it was dumb!” 

“Blimey, how many points will he take from us? We’re going to have to be careful  _ breathing! _ ” Ron shouted. 

“And there’s no spell?” Hermione pressed. “Can he dye over it?”

I shook my head. “No. There’s nothing he can do but wait.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Harry expressed. “I mean, he can’t take away all of our points, can he?”

“Of course not,” Hermione answered. “Dumbledore wouldn’t let him.”

∆ ∆ ∆

Hermione was right. Dumbledore wouldn’t let Snape deduct all of our points. But he sure tried. He’d take as many as he could whenever we could. We lost our lead and fell incredibly behind on points. In fact, we were so behind that other teachers gave us a few pity points when they could. Not that it mattered, though. Snape took those too. 

Every single Gryffindor was relieved to see the holiday break roll around. For two glorious weeks, we would be free from Snape’s harrowing torture. But while others packed their bags to go home, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I stayed at the castle to execute our plan to expose Draco Malfoy as the Heir of Slytherin. 

By sheer luck, we found out that Malfoy would also be staying at the castle for Christmas. Apparently his parents had a few important business meetings to attend, and it was better if he stayed at the castle. I personally didn’t care what the reason was. I was just glad that we could finally catch him in the act. 

“Everything’s set,” Hermione said, sliding into her seat in the Great Hall. “You just need a bit of whoever you’re turning into.”

“Got it,” Ron acknowledged. 

“And we need to make sure that the real Slytherins don’t come in while we’re talking to Malfoy,” I added. 

“How are we going to do that?”

“With these.” Hermione held up two cupcakes. “I’ve filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. Simple but powerful. Once they’re asleep, put them into a broom cupboard and get the hairs.”

“Okay. Wait, what about your Slytherins?”

“I’ve taken care of it,” I replied. “Just don’t open the last two stalls in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Ready?” 

Both boys nodded. “Ready.” 

Hermione and I made our way to the bathroom and pulled our potion out of its hiding spot. We separated the potion into four small vials, and waited for the boys. 

“We got them!” Ron exclaimed. “Got ‘em!” 

“Good,” Hermione replied. “We’ll have exactly one hour before we change back into ourselves.”

“Only an hour?”

She nodded. “We have to be quick. Now—”

“Wait a minute,” Harry cut in. “Who are you turning into?” 

“Daphne Greengrass,” I answered. “But I had to Stun her  _ and _ her sister because she saw me Stun Daphne.”

“Millicent Bulstrode,” Hermione said. “I got it off her robes. Now add the hairs.” 

I added the hairs into the foul-smelling vial. 

“Ugh, essence of Crabbe!” Ron groaned. 

“Cheers,” I said as we clinked our vials together. I plugged my nose and downed the chunky potion. I immediately regretted it, and gagged. 

“I think I’m going to be sick!” Ron shouted as he ran into a stall. I followed his lead and gripped the toilet. I felt my skin bubbling, and I shrunk a few inches. My robes were smaller, and my feet had too much space in my shoes. After a few minutes, it was over. 

I slowly walked out of the stall and inspected myself in the mirror. To my dismay and extreme confusion, I was  _ not  _ Daphne Greengrass.

“Who are you?” 

I spun around and nearly shrieked once I saw Goyle. 

“Harry? Is that you?”

“Yes it’s me. Who are you? I thought you were supposed to be Daphne!” 

“I must have grabbed her sister’s hair by accident!”

“But Daphne’s blonde and what’s-her-face is a brunette.”

“Well the corridor where I Stunned them was dark, okay?”

“Bloody hell!” ‘Crabbe’ approached us, looking us up and down. He frowned. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“Daphne’s sister. I grabbed the wrong hair.”

“What’s her name?”

I froze. “I have no idea.”

“Isn’t it like Allison or something?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” 

“Let’s go,” Harry interjected. “Hermione, let’s go!” 

“I-I don’t think I’m going,” she responded shakily. 

“What?” 

“Go on!” she urged. 

“Are you okay?”

“You’re wasting your time! Go!” 

“Come on,” I mumbled. “Let’s go.” 

We ran out of the bathroom and started down the corridors. 

“Where is the common room anyway?” I huffed as we walked. 

“It’s got to be here somewhere. Maybe—”

“Excuse me!” 

The three of us turned around to see Percy wandering about the hallways. 

“What are you doing here?” Ron asked. 

Percy stuck his nose into the air. “I happen to be a school prefect. You three on the other hand, have no business wandering the corridors at this time of night. What are your names again?” 

“Uh—”

“Crabbe! Goyle!” We turned to see Malfoy strutting towards us. “And Astoria? Where’s Daphne?” 

“Oh,” I began, trying to think of a quick but believable lie. “She left.”

“Left? Where did she go?” he questioned. 

“She wouldn’t tell me.”

“Strange. Anyway, where have you two been? Pigging out in the Great Hall all this time?” He frowned at Harry, who was still wearing his glasses. “Why are you wearing glasses?”

“Uh—reading.” Harry hastily snatched the frames off his face.

“Reading? I didn’t know you could read.” He turned to Percy with a look of contempt on his stupid pale face. “What are you doing down here, Weasley?” 

“Mind your attitude, Malfoy,” Percy warned as he stalked off. 

“Let’s go,” Malfoy muttered. We followed him down the stairs and into the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room was located. 

“What’s the password again?” he asked us. 

“Uh—”

“Oh, right.  _ Pureblood. _ ” I tried not to make a face as we stepped into the common room. It was a great difference from the homely feel of the Gryffindor common. Almost all of the furniture was black, and the walls were decorated in vibrant shades of green. It had quite the opposite feeling of the Gryffindor common room. This felt—cold. 

Malfoy sat down and we followed his lead. Unfortunately, Harry and Ron took the only two armchairs, so I was forced to sit next to the snobby blonde. I tried not to show my distaste, and sat a respectable distance from him. 

“You’d never know the Weasleys were purebloods by the way they behave. They’re an embarrassment to the wizarding world. All of them.” Ron stood up angrily and clenched his fists. Harry and I shot him glares, and he sank back into his seat. 

Malfoy frowned. “What’s wrong with you, Crabbe?”

Ron cleared his throat. “Erm—stomachache.”

Malfoy sniffed. “You know, I’m surprised that the Daily Prophet hasn’t done a report on all these attacks. I s’pose Dumbledore’s trying to hush it up. Right, Astoria?” 

I tried not to panic at his sudden question. “What?”

“Has your father heard anything about that? He just got promoted to executive editor of the Daily Prophet, didn’t he?”

“Yes he did,” I said quickly. “If he’s heard anything, he hasn’t told us.”

“But what does he think?”

“He suspects Dumbledore. We all hate the old wanker.” I knew this much to be true since Daphne always talked about how much she hated him. She was a very vocal person, and I assumed that her sister would be the same. 

Malfoy nodded in agreement. “Father always said that Dumbledore was the worst thing that ever happened to this place.”

“You’re wrong!” Harry yelled before he could control himself. I nearly blew my own cover to yell at him. 

“What? You think there’s someone here who’s worse than Dumbledore?” Malfoy taunted. “Well? Do you?”

“Harry Potter?” he offered. 

Malfoy let out a chuckle. “Good one, Goyle. You’re absolutely right.  _ Saint Potter. _ And people think he’s the Heir of Slytherin!” 

“You must have some idea of who it is then,” I cut in. 

“I don’t. I told Crabbe and Goyle yesterday that my father told me that the Chamber of Secrets was last opened fifty years ago. He wouldn’t tell me  _ who _ opened it—only that they were expelled.”

“Did he say anything else?” 

He nodded and leaned in. “The last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. It’s only a matter of time before another one is killed. As for me, I hope it’s Granger.”

Ron looked like he wanted to kill Malfoy, but I spoke before he could give us away. 

“Granger? What about that other girl they’re always with? Paprika?”

“Pepper Atkinson?” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head firmly. “Nah.”

“Why not?” I asked, trying not to sound too interested. Why wouldn’t he want me dead? Didn’t he hate all things Muggle?

“Because I need someone to bully, Astoria. Besides, Granger’s no fun.”

“So you’re saying I’m— _ I mean _ —Atkinson’s fun?” I questioned in disbelief.

“Of course not. But Granger’s just plain annoying. Always trying to be the teachers’ pet. I’ll tell you this, though. No amount of studying will ever change the fact that she’s a Mudblood. I’ll take Atkinson’s sarcastic remarks over Granger’s annoying know-it-all-ness any day.” 

Harry and Ron jumped up furiously, looking ready to beat the living daylights out of Malfoy. 

“What’s the matter with you two?” he demanded. “You’re acting very odd.”

“It’s their stomachaches,” I answered quickly. “They do eat a lot.” 

They started to sit back down when I noticed that my hair was starting to grow longer. I looked up and saw Ron’s real hair color coming back, and Harry’s scar reemerging. 

“S-scar!” 

“Hair!” 

They stood up and started running out of the common room. Harry grabbed my arm and yanked me along. 

“Where are you going?” Malfoy questioned. 

We ignored his yells as we ran back to the bathroom. We covered our faces and ran as fast as our legs would carry us, nearly running into multiple walls. 

“That was close!” Ron exclaimed. 

“Too close,” I panted. “Hermione, come out! We have loads to tell you!” 

“Go away!” she yelled, her voice thick with emotion. 

The three of us exchanged confused glances. “Hermione, what’s wrong?”

A shrill giggle came from behind us. “Just wait until you see it! It’s awful!” 

“What is it, Myrtle? Tell us!” 

Myrtle giggled again and dove into the nearest toilet. I walked towards Hermione’s stall. “Hermione? Are you okay?”

She sniffed as she slowly unlocked the door. “Do you remember that I said that Polyjuice Potion was only for human transformations?”

“Yes, but—” I stopped speaking once I saw her. Instead of looking like Millicent or herself, she looked like a  _ cat. _ She had fur all over her body, yellow eyes, and she even had a tail. 

“It was cat hair that I plucked off of Millicent’s robes. Look at my face!” she cried. 

“Oh, Hermione!” 

“Look at your tail!” Ron chortled. 

Harry and I gave him a disapproving glare as Hermione cried louder. 

∆ ∆ ∆

We escorted Hermione to the Hospital Wing, and she stayed there for a long time. Many people thought that she had been attacked, and frequented the hospital to see if they could sneak a glance at her. Luckily, Madam Pomfrey put curtains around her bed so nobody would see what was actually wrong with her. 

We visited her every single day, and even brought her her schoolwork. She insisted on staying on top of things, even though she was part cat. 

Aside from this, we were no closer to finding out who the Heir of Slytherin was. After talking to Malfoy, it was clear that it wasn’t him. But if it wasn’t Malfoy, then who else could it be? We tried to find a new suspect, but failed. We had no new leads. 

I also briefly wondered why Malfoy didn’t want me to die. He clearly had no problem with Hermione dying, but he seemed to dislike the idea of my demise. But then again, he had said that I was slightly better than Hermione. I concluded that he just wanted to have someone to bully. 

One night after visiting Hermione, we stumbled upon a flood of water coming from Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. 

“What’s that?” I asked, stepping away from the large puddle. 

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. Let’s go check it out.”

As soon as we stepped in, Moaning Myrtle flew towards us, sobbing loudly. “Have you three come to throw something at me?”

“Throw something at you? Why would we throw something at you?” Harry questioned. 

“Don’t ask me!” she shrieked. “I was just sitting here, minding my business, and someone thinks it’s funny to throw a book at me.” 

“But it can’t hurt if someone throws something at you, can it?” Ron inquired. “I mean, it’ll just go right through you.”

Myrtle took great offense to Ron’s remark. “Sure! Let’s all throw books at Myrtle because she can’t feel it! Ten points if you get it through her stomach! Fifty if you get it through her head!” 

“Who threw it at you, Myrtle?” I asked calmly. 

“I don’t know,” she sniffed. “I didn’t see them. I was just sitting, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head. It’s right there.” She pointed to sinks, where a shabby black book lay on the ground. 

“And—”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore!” she yelled. She let out a dramatic wail as she disappeared into a stall. 

We approached the journal. Harry was about to pick it up when Ron flung an arm in front of us. 

“Don’t!”

“Why not? We need to see it.”

“But it could be dangerous,” he insisted. “Dad’s told me all about some objects that have been bewitched to do terrible things.”

“But if it was bad, we would know by now,” I inputted. “I mean, the person who threw it in here is fine. We haven’t heard about anybody being cursed or anything.”

Harry nodded. “And we won’t know what it is until we look at it.” He picked it up and inspected the cover. Then, he flipped it open. “Blank. Every page is blank.”

We left the bathroom then. Harry took the diary with him to try and figure it out. I felt like there was something more to the diary, something that we couldn’t quite see. I shrugged off the feeling, assuming that I was just being paranoid. 

As Harry and Ron went to the common room, I decided to do my homework in the courtyard. I gathered all of my books and settled underneath a nice spot under a large tree. 

I cracked open my book and saw Ginny out of the corner of my eye. She sat alone, seemingly very nervous. I stood up and walked towards her. 

“Hey Ginny!” I greeted. “How are you?”

She jumped. “Oh, hey Pepper. I’m alright, I suppose. How are you?”

“Tired,” I sighed, sitting next to her. “It’s been a stressful year, hasn’t it?”

She nodded. “You have no idea. Where’s Harry? And Ron?”

“They’re both in the common room trying to figure something out.”

“Figure what out?” 

“They found some book in one of the bathrooms,” I explained. “But it’s completely blank.”

Ginny paled. “A diary?”

I nodded. “Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s bewitched or anything. It’s probably something dumb.”

She stood up abruptly. “Oh no. Oh no.”

“Ginny? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve got to go,” she blurted. She grabbed her bag. “Bye Pepper!” 

She sprinted away from her seat and I walked back to my work, confused by Ginny’s sudden departure. 

My books had not been open for more than ten minutes when two people sat down beside me. 

“Hello, Peppy!” George exclaimed brightly. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“If it’s another hair dye prank against Snape, I’m good. We’ll never get those points back.”

“It’s not that,” Fred answered. “Although, that was pretty bad, wasn’t it? I didn’t think that he’d get so angry about it.”

“At least the month’s almost up,” I mentioned. “Then he’ll be his normal self, which isn’t much better, but at least we’ll have more points.”

“Always the optimist, aren’t you, Pep?” George teased. “Anyway, that’s not why we’re here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“We wanted to see if you wanted to join our little Quidditch scrimmage. Wood reckons that it’ll be a good way to practice for our next match against Hufflepuff. You in?”

“Of course I’m in. When is it?” 

“Friday after school. And make sure to bring that nifty Nimbus 2001 of yours. We want to try it out.”

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Speaking of your broom,” Fred cut in, “did you ever find out who gave it to you?”

I shook my head. “Nope. But I bet it was McGonagall or something.”

“I doubt it was her. Those are expensive.”

“Then maybe it was from Dumbledore? I don’t know. It has to be from one of them.” 

“I s’pose.” Both boys stood up. “Don’t forget. Friday after school. Don’t be late.”

“Should I tell Harry?”

“No, we’re on our way to tell the scrawny git right now,” George shouted. “See you later, Pep!” 

I returned my thoughts back to my books. I finished the Potions assignment without an issue, and struggled through my Charms essay. I was about to start my Herbology assignment when someone stood in front of me. I looked at the person’s shoes and sighed. 

“What do you want now, Malfoy?”

“I’m just standing here, Atkinson. Is that illegal?”

“It should be,” I mumbled. 

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“Do you need something? If you haven’t noticed, I’m very busy.”

“I don’t need anything,” he prattled. “I just want to stand here.”

“Why?” 

“Because it bothers you, and I enjoy watching you suffer.”

I clenched my jaw tightly. “Well it’s working. Can you go?”

“I don’t think I will,” he replied. “I think I’ll just stand here and enjoy the nice weather.”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t stand in front of me.” 

“Oh, okay.” He shoved my books aside and sat down next to me. “Better?” 

“No.” 

“If you want me to sit closer to you, just—”

“Gross!” I exclaimed loudly. “I’d rather have a quill lodged down my throat.” 

He smirked. “Are you sure you want a  _ quill _ lodged there? Wouldn’t you want something else?” 

I gagged at his crude reference. “You’re disgusting.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

I hastily scooped up my books. “Not that this conversation hasn’t been lovely, but I have to get going, Malfoy.”

“So soon?”

“Yup. I need to feed my cat.” I started walking away.

“Sure, Atkinson. Just avoid my question,” he called out. 

“The answer’s no, Malfoy. And the answer will always be no.”

∆ ∆ ∆

Friday arrived, and as soon as classes were over, I made my way to the Quidditch pitch, cradling my Nimbus 2001 with care. As I arrived, I noticed the Slytherin team walking away rather displeased. 

“I can’t believe it!” Graham Montague growled. “Flint said he booked the pitch!” 

“You know him,” Miles Bletchley replied. “He probably forgot. Now the stupid Gryffindors get the pitch.” 

“They need all the practice they can get,” Malfoy snorted. “Especially with those ancient brooms. I’ve seen faster snails.”

The boys broke into chortles at Malfoy’s comment. I rolled my eyes and continued my walk to the pitch. As I opened the door, I rammed straight into Adrian Pucey’s chest. 

“Sorry about that, Pepper,” he apologized. “I didn’t know there was someone behind the door.” 

“It’s alright,” I responded. “So, no practice today, huh?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Flint didn’t book the pitch. It’s alright, though. I’m sure we can practice tomorrow or something. Our match isn’t for a bit anyway. You need it more than we do.” 

“We do. We need to beat Hufflepuff if we want a chance at the Quidditch Cup this year.”

“I’m sure you’ll beat them,” he stated. “Anyways, I better get going. Someone has to tell Flint about his mistake. Good luck at your practice.”

“Thanks. See you around.” I turned around to go through the door. 

“Oh and Pepper?” 

“Yeah?” I held the door open with my foot. 

He winked at me. “Nice broom.” 

“Alright!” Wood shouted. “We’ll split into two groups, and scrimmage. Don’t go easy on each other. We need to beat Hufflepuff! I expect you to pour blood, sweat, and tears into this game.”

“I don’t think he’s joking,” I whispered to Harry, who chuckled in response. 

“Okay, so we’ll use our Reserve players for more people, and we’re tweaking the numbers. Each team will have one Beater, two Chasers, one Keeper, and one Seeker. Group 1 will be Pepper, Fred, Harry, and then Reserve Chaser Nissan and Reserve Keeper Simmons. Group 2 will be me, George, Katie, Angelina, and Reserve Seeker Joan. Now get ready.” 

I mounted my broom and as soon as the Quaffle was released, I grabbed it. It felt strange to play against my teammates, and I almost threw the ball to Angelina and Katie on various occasions. But after a moment, I focused on the game and weaved my way through them. 

Our Reserve players didn’t play much. They only came to a few practices, and they hadn’t been used before. But aside from this, they were all good players. 

Our team ended up winning thanks to Harry’s superb Seeking skills. Wood actually seemed pleased with our performance, and even went as far as saying that Hufflepuff had absolutely no chance against us. To say that he was confident was an understatement. 

When practice was over, I noticed everyone slowly crowding around me. 

“Yes you can all have a go,” I answered, knowing what they wanted. It was fun to see everyone try out the broom. It had incredible speed and agility, and even though it was only one model higher than the Nimbus 2000, it was ten times better. 

“I wish I got brooms from strangers,” George pouted as we walked back to the castle. 

“About that,” I muttered. “I think I know who it’s from.”

“Who?” Fred pressed. 

“Adrian Pucey.”

“Pucey? Why would he give you a broom?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Back up a minute,” George drawled. “How do you even know it’s from him?”

“Well he was there when I said my broom broke. And he said he wished that he could help, remember? Then I said he couldn’t and he said that that wasn’t true. And today, he winked at me and said ‘Nice broom’.”

“I remember, but  _ why _ would he give you the broom?”

“Because he felt bad?”

“Or maybe our little Pepper has an admirer!” Fred teased. “He’s in love!”

“He is  _ not! _ ” I scowled. “He’s two years older than me. And besides, we don’t even spend any time together. How could he love me?” 

“Well what other reason could it be? It has to be something of the sort, especially since it’s such an expensive broom.”

“But he’s a Pucey,” I reminded them. “They’re loaded. It probably wasn’t even expensive to him.”

“You should ask him,” Fred concluded. “Ask him why he bought it.”

My jaw dropped. “Are you crazy? I’m not doing that!”

“Why not?”

“That’s so awkward! Besides we don’t even know for a fact that it’s him.”

“Pep, we’re pretty sure it’s him.”

“Still. I can’t say anything to him about it. If he wanted me to know, he would’ve said something by now.”

“Your call.”

“It’s the best thing to do,” I reassured. But I wasn’t entirely sure that I believed that myself. 

∆ ∆ ∆

“So you crush the beetles, and then pour in the armadillo bile,” Hermione instructed, pointing to a page in our Potions textbook. Hermione, Ron, and I sat in the courtyard, soaking up the sun that had come out from a week of rain. Hermione had recently been released from the Hospital Wing, and she was now helping Ron with his Potions homework. 

“I thought you had to pour the bile first.”

“No, no. It’s the beetles first. Otherwise it doesn’t get the right consistency.”

Having already finished my work, I lay in the cool grass, staring at the clear blue sky. I closed my eyes, trying to appreciate the warm weather. 

“Pepper! Ron! Hermione!”

My eyes snapped open and I sat up. Harry ran towards us, clutching the diary that we had found in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. 

“What is it?”

“It was Hagrid,” he blurted. “Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago.”

My jaw dropped. “No way.”

“It can’t be Hagrid,” Hermione said firmly. “It just can’t be.”

“We don’t even know this Tom Riddle,” Ron concluded after Harry told us everything that he had learned from the diary. “He sounds like a dirty, rotten snitch to me.”

“The monster had killed somebody, Ron. What would any of us have done?” Harry questioned. 

Hermione sighed. “Hagrid’s our friend. Why don’t we just go and ask him about it?”

“Ask him about it? Are you crazy?” I remarked.

“Pepper’s right,” Ron added. “That’ll be a cheerful visit! ‘Hello, Hagrid! Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?’”

“Mad and hairy?” The four of us jumped at the sound of Hagrid’s voice. “You wouldn’t be talking about me now, would you?” 

“No!” 

Harry cleared his throat. “What’s that you’ve got, Hagrid?”

“Oh, It’s Flesh-Eatin’ Slug Repellent,” he replied, holding up a large bucket. “For the Mandrakes, you know. According to Professor Sprout, they’ve still got a bit of growing up to do. But, once their acne’s cleared up, we’ll be able to chop ‘em up and stew ‘em, and then we’ll get those people down at the hospital un-petrified. In the meantime, though, you three had best be lookin’ after yourselves.”

Hagrid seemed very worried about the petrified students. There was no way that he was capable of releasing such horrors. 

“Harry! Harry!”

We all turned to see Neville running toward us. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Harry, I don’t know who did it, but you’d better come!” he yelled. “Come on!”

With the exception of Hagrid, we followed Neville to the boys’ dormitory. He swung the door opened and inside of the room was a great big mess. The room was entirely trashed. Books and papers covered the floor, trunks were open and clothes were askew. It seemed like nothing had gone untouched. 

“It had to be a Gryffindor,” Hermione stated. “Nobody else knows our password—unless it wasn’t a student.”

“Whoever it was, they must have been looking for something,” Ron noted. 

“They left no stone unturned,” I muttered, picking up one of Harry’s ruined books. 

“And they found it,” Harry vocalized. “Tom Riddle’s diary is gone.”

We weren’t quite sure what to think of this disaster. Somebody else had to know about Tom Riddle, otherwise they wouldn’t have stolen the diary. That sent chills all over my body. 

If somebody knew about Tom Riddle, then that meant that someone might also know about Hagrid. 

∆ ∆ ∆

A week after the incident in the boys’ dormitory, it was time for Gryffindor’s match against Hufflepuff. We were pumped, and ready to take them on. 

“Alright, listen up,” Wood announced. “We play our game, Hufflepuff doesn’t stand a

chance. We’re stronger, quicker and smarter.”

“And not to mention, they’re dead scared that Harry will petrify them if they fly anywhere near him,” Fred joked. I jabbed him in the ribs playfully as everyone laughed. 

“Well, that too,” Wood mumbled. He was about to continue with his usual pregame pep talk when Professor McGonagall came up to us with a bleak expression on her face. 

“This match has been cancelled,” she stated. 

“We can’t cancel Quidditch!” Wood shouted, looking appalled at the thought.

“Silence, Wood,” McGonagall said firmly. “You and your teammates will go to Gryffindor Tower, now. Potter and Atkinson, you and I will find Mr. Weasley. There’s something the three of you have to see.”

Harry and I exchanged nervous glances. Judging by the look on her face, it had to be bad news. We followed her to the stands, where we found Ron. We walked behind her quietly, desperately wondering what she had to tell us. 

She led us to the Hospital Wing and stopped in front of one of the beds. “I warn you, this could be a wee bit of a shock.” She pulled the curtains to reveal a petrified Hermione. 

“Hermione!” Ron gasped, growing pale at the sight of her frozen body. 

“She was found near the library, along with this.” McGonagall held up a hand mirror. “Does it mean anything to either of you?”

I shook my head. “I’ve never seen Hermione with a hand mirror before.”

“We’ve never seen it either,” Harry added. 

McGonagall gave us a weak smile and left us alone with Hermione. Ron slumped in the chair next to her bed. 

“Oh, Hermione,” I sighed. 

“We have to be more careful,” Harry stated. “We can’t risk you getting petrified too, Pepper.”

I nodded. “I don’t think I’ll be going on any midnight walks anytime soon.”

As I looked at Hermione’s frozen body, a wave of fear came over me. I had absolutely no desire in getting petrified, and I definitely didn’t want to  _ die.  _ But at this point, it didn’t seem like it was something that I could control. 

When we returned to the common room, McGonagall gave an announcement to all of Gryffindor house. 

“Because of recent events, these new rules will be put into effect immediately. All students will return to their house common rooms by six o’clock every evening, and all students will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No exceptions.” She sighed, smoothed her robes, and continued. “Unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught, it is likely the school will be closed. Please be safe.”

The common room burst into whispers as she left. 

“We have to talk to Hagrid,” I told Harry and Ron. “I don’t think it’s him, but maybe he knows something. It’s our best shot.” Harry nodded in agreement. 

“But you heard McGonagall! We’re not allowed to leave the tower except for class,” Ron said. 

“I think it’s time to get my Dad’s old cloak out again,” Harry replied ominously. 

Since it wasn’t curfew yet, I decided to head to the library to do some homework. I needed to distract myself, and it was what Hermione would want anyway. She wouldn’t want me falling behind on her account. I could practically hear her scolding me. 

I opened up my Astronomy book and started taking notes on the assigned passage. We were learning about constellations, and we would soon be tested on how well we could identify them through a telescope. I copied down each constellation and its name from memory, trying to quiz myself on the different ones. 

“That’s wrong.” 

I groaned, but Malfoy paid no attention to me as he pointed to my parchment. “That’s not Lynx.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Fine then. Which one is it?”

He smirked. “Draco.”

I tapped the parchment with my wand and erased the writing. I begrudgingly scribbled his name onto my chart and continued to work. 

“No thank you?”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You’re always very bitter, aren’t you?”

“Only with you.”

“Well—” 

“Malfoy, I’m not in the mood,” I snapped. “If you don’t leave me alone, I will hex you.”

“Merlin, calm down.”

“I can’t with your hovering. Just let me work.”

“Fine then. I won’t even point out the two other errors on your work.”

I clenched my teeth. “I don’t  _ have _ any other errors.”

“If that’s what you say. But you want to be alone, so I’ll be on my way.”

“No,” I said loudly. “Now you’re going to tell me what I did wrong. Or else.”

He snickered. “Bitter and feisty. No wonder they named you Pepper.”

“Which ones are wrong?”

“Number one is Andromeda, not Gemini. And number ten is Scorpius, not Lyra.” 

I studied my parchment. “You’re right.”

“I know.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled. He stood from his seat. 

“Be careful out there. Wouldn’t want to hear that you got petrified, Mud.”

“Why?” I taunted. “Wouldn’t it be your dream come true?”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t know me very well if you think  _ that’s  _ my dream.” 

“Well, what is your dream then?” 

“I don’t just go telling everyone my deepest desires.”

“Let me guess. Your one true wish is to own 700 Nimbus 2001s. Or better yet, own the Nimbus 2003.”

“Like I said, Atkinson. You don’t know me very well if you think that’s my dream. And you’re kidding yourself if you think that you’ll ever know what it is.”

“You’re a simple person,” I replied. “I’ll find it out eventually.”

“There’s more to people than meets the eye.”

“Not you. You’re just Malfoy. What more could there be?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a lot, maybe a little. But you’ll never know, will you?”

“I’ll figure it out,” I insisted. “I know I will.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”


	18. Kaitoke

_ Knew it was a dangerous idea (I’m in trouble now) _

Later that night, Harry, Ron, and I made plans to sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid. We crept downstairs with Harry’s Invisibility Cloak over us, careful not to make too much noise. 

We hurried out of the castle and ran all the way to Hagrid’s hut. Once we were there, we knocked furiously at his door. 

“Who’s there?” Hagrid asked from inside. “Hello?” 

“Hagrid, it’s us!” I responded. “Open up!” 

He opened the door holding a large rifle, looking rather paranoid. 

“What’s that for?” Harry asked as we shrugged the cloak off. 

“Oh, nothing,” Hagrid dismissed. “I was expecting—it doesn’t matter. Come on in. I just made a pot of tea.” 

We sat down at Hagrid’s circular table, watching him shake as he reached for the kettle.

“Hagrid, are you okay?” I questioned. “You—” 

“I’m fine! I’m alright!” he exclaimed. 

“Did you hear about Hermione?” Harry inquired. 

Hagrid nodded. “I heard about that, all right.”

Harry sighed. “Look, we have to ask you something. Do you know who’s opened the Chamber of Secrets?” 

Hagrid paled. “What you had to understand about that is—” He was interrupted by a loud knock at his front door. 

“Quick! Under the cloak!” he ordered. “Don’t say a word. Be quiet, all of you!” 

We threw the cloak over our heads and rushed to the corner of Hagrid’s hut. We huddled together. 

“Professor Dumbledore!” Hagrid exclaimed with mock joy. 

“Good evening, Hagrid,” said Dumbledore curtly. “I wonder, could we…?”

“Of course! Come in, come in.” There was a shuffle of noise as Dumbledore and another man walked in. He was rather round, and had sandy blonde hair combed neatly on his head. 

“That’s Dad’s boss!” Ron whispered. “Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic!”

We shifted our attention back to the scene in front of us. 

“Bad business, Hagrid, very bad business. I had to come. Three attacks on Muggle-borns. Things have gone far enough. The Ministry’s got to act.” 

Hagrid let out a cry. “Oh, but I never—you know I never, Professor!”

“I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence,” Dumbledore interjected.

Fudge sighed. “Albus look, Hagrid’s record is against him. I’ve got to take him.”

“Take me?” Hagrid’s face fell. “Take me where? Not Azkaban?”

“I’m afraid we have no choice, Hagrid,” Fudge responded. 

I was about to ask Harry and Ron what Azkaban was when someone else walked into the hut. 

“Not  _ Lucius Malfoy _ ,” I groaned quietly. Ron nudged me and I shut up. 

“Already here, Fudge? Good,” he drawled. 

“What’re you doing here?” Hagrid growled. “Get out of my house!”

“Believe me, I take absolutely no pleasure being inside your—you call this a house? Huh!” Lucius sneered and wrinkled his nose. “No. I simply called at the school, and was told the headmaster was here.”

“Well, what exactly is it that you want with me?” Dumbledore asked exasperatedly. 

Lucius whipped his ribbon-secured ponytail off his shoulder. “The other governors and I have decided it’s time for you to step aside. This is an order of suspension. You’ll find all twelve signatures on it. I’m afraid we feel you’ve rather lost your touch. And with all these attacks, there’ll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts. I can only imagine what an awful loss that would be to the school,” he stated dryly.

“You can’t take Professor Dumbledore away!” Hagrid shouted. “Take him away, and the Muggle-borns won’t stand a chance! You mark my words, there’ll be killings next!”

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “You think so?” 

“Calm yourself, Hagrid,” Dumbledore orated calmly. “If the governors desire my removal, I will, of course, step aside. However, you will find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” I whispered. Harry and Ron both shrugged. 

“Admirable sentiments. Shall we, Fudge?” Lucius barked. 

Fudge nodded. “Come, Hagrid.” 

Hagrid cleared his throat. “If, uh, if anybody was looking for some stuff, then all they’d have to do would be to follow the spiders.” He nodded furiously and looked at the corner where we sat. “Yup! That would lead them right! That’s all I have to say. Oh, and someone’ll need to feed Fang while I’m away.”

As soon as they left, we tossed the cloak off. 

“Hagrid’s right! With Dumbledore gone, there’ll be an attack a day!” Ron exclaimed. 

“I know,” I agreed. “That’s why we need to follow his advice. But where are the spiders?”

“Right there.” Harry pointed to the window, where a trail of spiders crawled away from us. Ron let out a whine. 

“Well let’s go.”

“ _ Follow the spiders! _ Why couldn’t it be ‘follow the butterflies!’” Ron whimpered as we trekked through the Forbidden Forest. 

“Shh!” 

“I don’t like this,” he continued. “I don’t like this at all!” 

“Ron, calm down,” I whispered. 

“Can we—”

“Who’s there?” 

The three of us froze at the sound of a gruff voice.

“Don’t panic,” Harry ordered. 

“Hagrid? Is it you?” the voice asked. 

“We’re friends of Hagrid’s,” Harry called out as we approached the voice. Ron nearly screamed once we saw who was speaking. A large spider with long legs and multiple eyes stared us down. “You’re Aragog, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before,” he replied, tapping one of his legs. 

“He’s in trouble,” I cut in. “There’s been more attacks at Hogwarts. They think it’s Hagrid. They think that he opened the Chamber of Secrets before, and that he’s doing it now.” 

“That’s a lie!” Aragog hissed. “Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets!” 

“So you’re not the monster?”

“No. The monster was born in the castle. I came to Hagrid from a distant land, in the pocket of a traveler.” 

“But if you’re not the monster, then who killed that girl fifty years ago?” Harry pressed. 

“We do not speak of it. It is an ancient creature that we spiders fear above all others.” 

“But have you seen it?”

“I never saw the castle except for the box where Hagrid kept me. The girl was discovered in a bathroom. When I was accused, Hagrid brought me here.”

“Harry! Pepper!” Ron tugged both of our sleeves. 

“What?” Harry asked irritably. We turned to see more Aragog-like spiders crawling towards us, forming a circle. 

“Er—well thank you,” Harry stuttered. “We’ll be on our way now.”

“Go? I think not.” We froze in fear. “My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid on command. But I cannot deny them fresh meat when it wanders so willingly into our midst.”

_ “What?”  _ Ron shrieked. 

“Goodbye, friends of Hagrid.”

We sprinted away from Aragog and his children, running as fast as we could. 

“Can we panic now?” Ron screamed. 

We jumped over stumps and ducked tree branches. I could hear the click of multiple pairs of legs running towards us, and I feared that the end was near. 

“We’re going to die!” Ron moaned. “We’re going to get eaten alive by spiders!” 

We kept running, but hit a dead end. 

“This is it!” I cried. “We’re doomed!” 

I shut my eyes, and heard a loud honk behind me. 

“Was that—”

“It’s the car!” Ron exclaimed. “Get in, get in!” 

I didn’t hesitate into jumping into the backseat of Ron’s very beat-up Ford Anglia. Ron slammed on the gas, and we sped out of the forest. 

Even with the extra boost that the car gave us, the spiders were still hot on our trail. Harry and I tried to fight them off by blasting them with spells, but there were too many of them. 

“Ron, there’s too many!” 

“Hold on!” He slapped the car and we launched into the air, far out of the spiders’ reach. 

“Oh thank God!” I shouted, slumping in the backseat. “We’re safe.” 

The car dropped us off outside of the forest and we climbed out. It then drove itself back into seclusion. 

“Follow the spiders,” Ron ranted as we walked back to the castle. “ _ Follow the spiders! _ If I ever see Hagrid again, I’ll kill him! I mean, what was the point of that? What did we find out?”

“Hagrid’s innocent, Ron,” I replied. “He never opened the Chamber of Secrets. It was someone else.” 

“He could’ve just told us that! Did we need to follow the spiders?”

“Ron—”

“I hate spiders.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

The next morning, we went to go visit Hermione in the Hospital Wing. She and all the other students lay there, frozen and unmoving. 

There had yet to be another attack, and I was extremely on edge. It was only a matter of time before the monster sought  _ me  _ out. I made sure not to walk anywhere alone, and only left the safety of the common room if it was absolutely necessary. 

“We need you, Hermione,” Harry sighed. “We need you now more than ever.” 

“Especially me,” I added. “I can’t believe you left me alone with Harry  _ and _ Ron. How dare you!” 

Ron chuckled, then paused. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That. In her hand.” Harry pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her grip. He read it, and rushed out of the Hospital Wing. Ron and I scrambled after him. 

“What is it?” 

“Listen to this!  _ Of the many fearsome beasts that roam our land, none is more deadly than the basilisk. Capable of living for hundreds of years, instant death awaits any who meet this deadly serpent’s eye. Spiders flee before it. _ ” He waved the paper in front of our faces. “This is it! The monster in the Chamber of Secrets is a basilisk. That’s—”

“That’s why you can hear it!” I gasped. “It’s a snake! Of course Salazar Slytherin would put a deadly snake in his secret room! And the spiders flee from it! It all makes sense!” 

“But if it kills people by looking them in the eye, why isn’t anyone dead?” Ron questioned. 

“Because… nobody looked it in the eye,” Harry realized. “Colin had his camera, Justin must have seen it through Nearly Headless Nick, who got the full blast but he can’t die again.”

“And Hermione had the hand mirror,” I added. “She probably used it to look around corners.”

“What about Mrs. Norris, then? She didn’t have a mirror,” Ron pointed out. 

“There was a puddle, remember? When we first saw the message?” 

“Pepper’s right. Mrs. Norris must have seen it through there.”

“But how has a snake been getting around?” I asked. “I mean, someone would have noticed a basilisk.” 

“Hermione answered that, too,” Harry said, showing us the ripped page. ‘Pipes’ was written in Hermione’s neat handwriting. “It’s using the plumbing.”

“What about the girl who died, though?” I continued. 

“Remember what Aragog said? That she died in a bathroom?” Harry reminded me. “What if she never left?”

“Moaning Myrtle,” Ron blurted. 

“We need to go see her right now. Let’s—”

_ “All students are to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers to the second floor corridor immediately.”  _

We froze at McGonagall’s announcement. 

“We’re not listening to that, are we?” I questioned dubiously.

“No.” 

“Didn’t think so. To the second floor corridor we go!” 

Once we arrived, we saw all of the teachers huddled around a wall, worry plaguing their faces. The wall had a brand-new message painted in fresh blood. 

_ Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever.  _

I shuddered at the message. 

“As you can see,” McGonagall began, “the Heir of Slytherin has left another message. Our worst fear has been realized. A student has been taken by the monster into the Chamber itself. We must send the rest of the students home. I’m afraid this is the end of Hogwarts.”

Lockhart strolled by like he was on his way to dinner. “So sorry. I dozed off. What have I missed?” 

Snape’s lip curled. His hair was now back to its usual oily black. “A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Your time has come.”

Lockhart’s cool demeanor quickly faded. His lip trembled. “M-my moment?” 

“Weren’t you saying last night that you’ve known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?” 

“Well that’s settled, then,” McGonagall concluded. “We’ll leave you to deal with the monster, Gilderoy. Your skills, after all, are a legend.”

Lockhart let out a dry chuckle and wiped his face nervously. “Very well then. I’ll just be in my office, getting ready.” He practically sprinted out of the corridor.

“Who is it that the monster’s taken, Minerva?” Madam Pomfrey questioned. 

McGonagall sighed. “Ginny Weasley.” 

Ron paled. “ _ Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever.  _ Ginny!” 

“Let’s tell Lockhart what we know,” I suggested. “I’m sure it’ll help.” 

“Good idea, Pepper,” Harry agreed. “Let’s go.”

The three of us ran to Lockhart’s office and found him  _ packing _ . 

“Where are you going?” I questioned. 

“Er—urgent call,” he blurted. “Unavoidable. I’ve got to go.” 

“What about my sister?” Ron shouted angrily. 

Lockhart snatched a blonde wig off his desk. “Er—yes, I heard about that. Most unfortunate, isn’t it? Nobody regrets that more than I do.” 

“You’re the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!” I exclaimed. “You can’t go now!” 

“Well, I must say, there was nothing in the job description about this!”

“You’re running away?” Harry asked in disbelief. “After all the stuff you did in your books?”

“Books can be misleading.”

“You wrote them!” 

“My dear boy, do use your common sense!” He exclaimed as he tossed some robes into his trunk. “My books wouldn’t have sold half as well if people didn’t think that I’d done all those things!” 

“You’re a fake? I knew it!” I shouted. “I knew you were just a pompous git! You’re just taking credit for things that other wizards have done!” 

“Is there anything you can do?” Ron questioned. 

Lockhart sighed. “Now that you mention it, I’m rather gifted with Memory Charms. Otherwise, you see, the other wizards would have gone blabbing. And I never would’ve sold another book. And now, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to do the same thing to you.” He whipped his wand out of his robe pocket and pointed it at us. 

The three of us kept our own wands pointed at him. “Don’t even think about it.” 

Lockhart whined the entire way to the bathroom. He pleaded with us to let him go, even going as far as offering us a lifetime’s supply of his books, free of charge. 

We didn’t let him go. 

Once we arrived at the bathroom, we called out for Myrtle. 

“Oh, hello Harry! Pepper! Ron! What do you want?”

“We want to ask how you died,” Harry remarked bluntly. 

Myrtle sighed. “It was dreadful. It happened right here, in this very cubicle.” She led us to a stall by the sinks. “I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. I was crying, and I heard somebody come in.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know! I was distraught!” she wailed. “But they said something funny, some sort of made-up language. And I realized that it was a boy speaking, so I unlocked the door to tell him to go away and I just  _ died _ .”

“Just like that?”

“Mm-hmm. I remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes right there, by that sink.” We all walked towards the sink she pointed to. The handle had a small snake engraved on it. 

“Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed. “They searched every inch of the school, but they didn’t think to search the bathrooms? Safest school my—”

“Say something in Parseltongue,” Ron interrupted. “Go on!” 

Harry started making the hissing sounds again, and to everyone’s surprise, the sink shifted to reveal an entrance. 

“Excellent work you three!” Lockhart congratulated. “You don’t need me, so I’ll just, uh, leave you to it!” 

I grabbed his robe before he could leave. “That’s where you’re wrong, Gilderoy. Someone needs to go first.”

He paled. “Surely you don’t mean—”

“Down you go!” I gave him a gentle shove and he fell through the entrance.

“Pepper!” Harry exclaimed. 

“Better him than us,” Ron defended. “Besides, I’m sure he won’t  _ die _ .” 

“It’s really quite filthy down here!” Lockhart called from below. 

“See? He’s fine!” I dismissed. “Now let’s go.” 

“If you die down there, you’re more than welcome to share my toilet, Harry!” Myrtle offered. 

“Er—thanks, Myrtle.” 

We each traveled down the entrance, which turned out to be a large slide. As I dusted myself off, I noticed something odd in front of us. 

“What on Earth is that?”

“It looks like a snake,” Lockhart observed. 

Harry nodded. “It’s a snakeskin.” 

“Whatever shed this must be fifty feet or longer,” I commented. There was a loud thud behind me, and I turned around to see that Lockhart had fainted. 

“Heart of a lion, this one,” Ron mumbled, crouching down to see if he was okay. Lockhart snatched Ron’s wand, sprung up, and pointed it at us. 

“The adventure ends here!” he yelled. “But don’t fret! The entire world will know our story. How we were too late to save the girl! How you three tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body. So you first, Mr. Potter. Say goodbye to your memories.  _ Obliviate! _ ” 

Sparks came from Ron’s wand, and shot Lockhart back. Rubble fell, and separated Ron and I from Harry. 

“Harry!” I shouted. “Harry!” 

“Are you guys okay?” he asked.

“We’re fine,” Ron answered. “We’re—”

“Hello.” Ron and I spun around to see Lockhart sitting on the floor with a dazed expression on his face. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Ron and this is Pepper.”

“Really? And, uh, who am I?”

“Lockhart’s Memory Charm backfired!” Ron shouted to Harry. “He has no idea who he is!” 

“So that’s what Obliviate is,” I muttered under my breath, remembering the joke Malfoy had made in the beginning of the year. 

“What?” Ron asked. 

“Oh—nothing. What are we going to do?” 

“This is an odd sort of place,” Lockhart commented. “Do you live here?”

“No!” 

“What do we do now, Harry?” I pressed. 

“Wait there and try to shift some of this rock so we can get back through. I’ll go and find Ginny.”

“Okay. Harry, be careful!” 

“I will. I’ll be back.” 

Harry’s footsteps grew quieter and quieter until we couldn’t hear them at all. 

“This is bad,” I moaned. “What if something happens to Harry? What if—”

“I’m sure Harry will be fine,” Ron consoled. “He is the Chosen One, after all. Now come and help me with the rock.” 

We went to work prying the looser rocks from their spaces. 

“Do you think Hermione’s okay?” Ron questioned as he tried to yank a large rock from the corner of the rubble. 

“Hermione? She’s going to be fine. Professor Sprout said the Mandrakes were nearly ready, remember?” 

“Yeah, but what if they don’t work? Could she stay petrified forever? I mean—”

I grabbed his shoulders. “Ron, Hermione’s going to be fine. She’s going to be just fine.”

He took a deep breath. “You’re right. She’s going to be okay.” 

“She’ll be back to making us study in no time.”

He let out a weak laugh. “Probably.” 

“Probably? There’s only a few weeks before exams, Ron. She’ll be making us study every minute of every day!” 

The laughter grew stronger. “You’re right. She would do that. Even after being petrified, she’d still worry about final exams. Typical Hermione.”

“Who’s Hermione?” Lockhart asked. “Is she your girlfriend, weird ginger boy?” 

“Er—no,” Ron stammered. “She’s—”

“Oh I see. Is this Cayenne girl your girlfriend?”

“Who the hell is Cayenne?” 

Lockhart furrowed his brow. “That girl next to you. Her name isn’t Cayenne?”

“No, it’s—”

“Nutmeg? Oregano? Coriander? It was some sort of spice, wasn’t it?” 

“It’s Pepper,” I corrected. 

He frowned. “No, I don’t think it is.” 

“It is. Trust me.”

“Okay. Are you his girlfriend?”

“No!” 

“Then—”

“We’re friends, Gilderoy.” 

“Okay.” He seemed content with this answer, and then frowned. “Who’s Gilderoy?”

“Oh my Merlin,” Ron groaned. “You are!” 

“I’m Gilderoy?” 

I pulled my wand out and transfigured a rock into a stuffed bear. “Here. Play with this.” 

“I don’t like bears. Can you make it a dragon?” 

I sighed.  _ “Fine.”  _

Once Lockhart was entertained, I went back to helping Ron with the rock. We sifted through the rubble for an hour before Harry came back with Ginny. 

“Ginny!” Ron exclaimed. “You’re okay!” 

Ginny let out a sob and collapsed onto her brother’s shoulder. “It wasn’t my fault, Ron! I swear!” 

“It’s okay, Gin,” he soothed. “It’s okay.” 

After we reunited, we grabbed Lockhart and left the Chamber via Dumbledore’s pet Phoenix. On the way, Harry explained everything from Ginny’s bewitched diary to Tom Riddle. 

“That’s crazy!” Lockhart shouted in glee. “It’s just like magic!” 

∆ ∆ ∆

“You do realize that in the past few hours, you have broken perhaps a dozen school rules?” Dumbledore asked us. As soon as we had rejoined the school, we had been summoned to Dumbledore’s office. The three of us sat in his office, covered in dirt, dust, and in Harry’s case, some blood. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And there is sufficient evidence to have you all expelled.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Which is why it’s only fitting that you receive special awards for services to the school.”

We exchanged grins. 

“Thank you, sir!” Ron shouted. 

“And now, Mr. Weasley, if you would, have an owl deliver these release papers to Azkaban? I believe we want our gamekeeper back.” He handed Ron a thick envelope and then turned to me. “And Miss Atkinson, could you please go deliver this vial of dittany to Professor Sprout? She needs it to finish up the Mandrakes.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Ron and I parted ways to complete our tasks. I walked with a new spring in my step, feeling happy that I no longer had to worry about getting petrified. 

“Merlin’s beard! Pepper!” Theo ran up to me. “What happened?”

“I was just in the Chamber of Secrets,” I replied. “Now I’m going to Professor Sprout’s.”

His mouth hung open. “The C-Chamber of Secrets? But—”

“We went to go save Ginny Weasley from the basilisk. It’s a long story.”

“Are you okay?” 

“Me? I’m fine. I actually didn’t even do much. Harry was the one who battled the basilisk.” 

“That’s crazy,” he sighed. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

I shrugged. “Honestly, me either. I’m just glad that we can all stay at school.” 

“Me too. I didn’t want to go to Durmstrang. Or even worse,  _ home _ . Can you imagine staying at home all day long?”

I giggled. “I wouldn’t mind staying at home. But Hogwarts is better.” 

“It is. Anyway, I’ll see you later. I’m supposed to go find the Slytherin prefect. Someone clogged the toilet with a bottle of shampoo.” 

“Sounds wonderful,” I laughed. “See you later, Theo!” 

Professor Sprout was enormously pleased with the vial of dittany. She told me that the Mandrakes would be ready in the next two to three days, and every petrified student would be as good as new.

After successfully dropping off the dittany, I decided to go to my dormitory to clean myself up. 

“What in the name of Merlin happened to you?” I heard Malfoy call out. 

I ignored him and kept walking. 

“Hello? Atkinson?” Once it was clear that I wasn’t answering, he walked up to me. “Are you deaf, Mudblood? I was calling you.” 

“You were talking to me? I had no idea!” 

“How many people do you know with the surname Atkinson?” 

“Loads.”

“That go to this school?” 

I didn’t reply. 

“What happened to you?”

Sighing, I turned to face him. “I was just in the Chamber of Secrets.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Good one, Atkinson. Now where were you?”

“I just told you. I was in the Chamber of Secrets. Didn’t you hear that the monster took Ginny Weasley?” 

“Everybody heard about that. But we also know that the Chamber of Secrets isn’t a problem anymore. Snape just told us.” 

“Did he tell you why?”

“No.” 

“Well it’s because Harry just killed the monster in the Chamber. It was a basilisk.”

“A basilisk? In the school?”

I nodded. “Yup.” 

“So you, Potter, and Weasley were all down there, right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And you _ didn’t _ get petrified?”

“No. I didn’t see the basilisk. Harry killed it. Ron and I had to stay behind because we were separated.”

“By what?” 

“You’re very nosy, aren’t you?” I huffed before continuing. “Lockhart caused an explosion of rubble.” 

“How?” 

“He Obliviated himself.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened. “On purpose?”

“No. He tried to Obliviate us because we found out that he was a fraud.”

He let out a snicker. “I knew he was a fake.”

“Everyone knew he was a fake. Except for 90% of the girls in our year.”

“True. You should hear the Slytherin girls. It’s all Lockhart this and Lockhart that.” 

I chuckled. “Sounds a lot like Lavender and Parvati.” 

“So all of that really happened? That’s crazy,” he sighed. “Merlin, do you go looking for trouble, Atkinson?” he asked seriously. 

“No,” I replied. “Why do you care?” 

He rolled his eyes. “It’s called a question, Mudblood. Chill.” 

I sighed. “Well, I’ll be on my way now, Malfoy. I don’t fancy sitting in this dirt any longer.”

He held up his hands. “Nobody’s keeping you here.”

I groaned. “Whatever, goodbye.” 

“Be thankful, Atkinson!” 

“Thankful for what?” 

“That you didn’t get petrified.”

“Are  _ you _ thankful for that?” 

“I’m thankful that I didn’t get hurt,” he snorted. He then spun on his heel and sauntered away. 

I walked up to my common room, tired from the day’s excursion, but also confused as to why Malfoy didn’t answer my questions. 


	19. Aubergine

_ I loved and I loved and I lost you _

“When’s she coming?” 

“Relax, Ron. She’ll be here soon,” I replied, looking at the doors of the Great Hall. It was the end of term feast, and the day that the petrified students were returning. Harry, Ron, and I were anxiously awaiting Hermione’s return. All of us, (especially Ron) greatly missed her.

While we waited for her to enter the Great Hall, Harry told us about his encounter with Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy, and Dobby the house elf. 

“So you  _ freed _ him?” I questioned.

“Bloody hell, Harry. I’ll bet Lucius Malfoy was pissed.”

“He was, but Dobby deserves to be free.” 

“Look!” Ron exclaimed. “It’s Hermione!” 

We all turned to see Hermione at the doors. Once she saw us, she grinned and ran towards us. She tackled Harry and I into a large, suffocating embrace, and sheepishly shook Ron’s hand. 

“We missed you so much!” I babbled. “How are you feeling?”

“Great! It’s good to be back!” she gushed. “Which reminds me. Congratulations! You solved it!” 

“Well, we did have loads of help from you,” Ron admitted. Hermione flushed a shade of light pink as she sat down next to us. 

“Could we have your attention, please?” McGonagall announced as she motioned to Dumbledore. 

“Before we begin this feast, let us have a round of applause for Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey, whose Mandrake juice has been successfully administered to all those who were petrified.” There was a deafening roar of applause for the two teachers who worked diligently to save the students. “Also, in light of recent events, as a school treat, all final exams have been canceled.” 

Nobody cheered louder than Ron and I. Hermione was actually disappointed, and frowned. As we celebrated the cancelation of exams, the doors to the Great Hall opened to reveal Hagrid. 

“Sorry I’m late!” he apologized. “The owl that delivered my release papers got all lost and confused. Some ruddy bird called Errol.” 

The four of us sprang up and ran to Hagrid.

“Sorry about my bird. He’s ancient,” Ron commented. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he laughed. “I’d just like to say that without you four, I’d probably still be in Azkaban. So I’d just like to say thanks.” 

“There’s no Hogwarts without you, Hagrid,” Harry said simply. “We need you here.” 

Hagrid’s face lit up. “Oh!” 

The other students gathered around, and clapped loudly for Hagrid, who seemed to be on the verge of tears. I was glad to have him and Hermione back. 

We sat down to dinner, and ate a delicious meal. After a stressful year of many near-death experiences, it was nice to sit down and enjoy the simpler aspects that we had been too preoccupied before to enjoy. After all, it is the little things that count. 

∆ ∆ ∆

We boarded the Hogwarts Express, excited for summer vacation but sad to leave school. I was personally relieved to be taking the train home instead of another expedition in the flying car. Two trips in it was enough for me. 

“You have no idea how great it feels to be in the train,” Ron exclaimed as he sat down. 

“Tell me about it,” I muttered, stroking Bruce’s fur. “And I think Bruce agrees.” 

“I still think it’s crazy that he survived.”

“It was sheer luck that Adrian Pucey caught him,” Hermione remarked. 

“I’m relieved,” Harry sighed. “I thought Bruce’s death was my fault.”

“I never blamed you, Hazzah,” I drawled. Harry rolled his eyes at the nickname while Ron snickered. 

“Thanks, Cinnamon,” he retorted. “I think that’s the only funny thing that Lockhart’s ever said.”

“What are your plans for this summer?” Hermione asked as I scowled. 

“We’re probably just going to stay at home,” Ron replied. “You should all come stay a few weeks. I’ll write to you.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that,” Harry muttered. “I have to go back to the Dursleys.”

“I’ll be at home all summer,” I answered, “but I’d love to go to the Burrow.” 

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” Hermione said. “I’ll be in France for most of the holidays, but I might be able to come towards the end.”

“Looks like Hermione’s going to be the only one with an interesting summer,” I commented. “Send us some fancy French things, okay?” 

“Alright,” she laughed. 

There was a knock at our compartment door, and we saw Fred, George, and Ginny at our door. 

“Anyone fancy a game of Exploding Snap?” Fred asked, sitting next to me. 

“What, no pranks today?” 

“Not today, Pepkins,” George responded, sitting on my other side. “Why? Are you in the mood for mischief?” 

I smirked. “Maybe.” 

“Well then you should help us bully Percy,” Ginny giggled from her spot next to Hermione. 

Ron furrowed his eyebrows “Percy? Why would they bully Percy?” 

“Percy’s got a girlfriend!” 

Ron choked on his licorice wand. “What?” 

“I know,” Fred chuckled. “It’s like Christmas came early this year.”

“Oh, you leave him alone!” Hermione scolded. 

“We would never!” George gasped dramatically as he pulled out his stack Self-Shuffling Playing Cards. “Now, Exploding Snap?”

We played multiple rounds of the game before moving on to using some of Fred and George’s fireworks.

“Wait a minute,” I blurted. “Can I have one?” 

“Who are you going to prank?” George questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

“He’s a prat, he’s blonde, he’s a rich wanker—”

“Malfoy!” Ron laughed. “Give her two!” 

They actually did give me two, and Harry even offered to let me borrow his Invisibility Cloak. I slipped under the cloak and gripped the fireworks tightly. As I approached their compartment, I heard Malfoy’s annoying voice floating through the air. 

“... and I don’t really want to go to Italy,” he whined. “I prefer France, but the French Manor needs reconstruction.”

“That’s terrible, Draco!” Pansy Parkinson said shrilly. She was sitting so close to him, that she was nearly on his lap. 

“Well, we’re going to Fiji,” Daphne boasted with a flip of her blonde hair. “Astoria and I are thrilled to tan all day long.”

As they continued blabbing about their vacation spots, I opened their compartment door. All conversations ceased. 

“What was that?” Daphne asked. “Who’s there?” 

I placed the two fireworks in the corner of the compartment and slowly slid out. 

“There it is again!” Pansy shrieked. “What’s going on? Draco!” 

“Who’s there?” he snapped. “Crabbe, Goyle, go check it out.” 

Crabbe and Goyle’s heavy steps set off the fireworks. I watched from afar as all of the Slytherins in the compartment screamed. The fireworks flew around for a few minutes before exploding with a final boom—right over Malfoy’s head. His usually pristine platinum blonde hair was now coated in black powder. He looked like he dyed his hair black. 

“Merlin!” Pansy squealed. “Drakey, your hair!” 

I snorted at her nickname for the prat. Malfoy turned bright red, and he now greatly resembled the Hogwarts Express. 

“I told you not to call me that, Pansy!”

“But, Drakey—”

“Pansy!” 

I left them in their squabble, trembling from laughter. I ran all the way back to the compartment, where everyone else found the whole ordeal equally as funny. 

“Drakey!” George chortled. “What kind of name is that?”

“I think the more important question is, who would ever want to date  _ Malfoy? _ ” Ron questioned. 

“I’d rather take my chances with the giant squid,” I snickered. 

“The giant squid?” Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Really?” 

“You’re more likely to see me with red hair than dating Draco Malfoy,” I insisted. “And I’d  _ never  _ dye my hair red. No offense, Weasleys.”

“You’re just jealous of our natural beauty!” Fred scoffed. 

“I’m not. Like I said last year, you’re ugly.”

George gasped. “Excuse me! I think we need to teach our little Pepper a lesson, Freddie!” 

“I agree, Georgie. What should we do to her? Hex her hair red?” 

My eyes widened. “No!” 

“No, that’s lame. Oh, I know what we should do. But we’re going to have to wait until she stays at the Burrow.”

“Oh no. Ginny, please don’t let them sneak a troll in the room!” 

She laughed. “I won’t, Pepper. I promise!” 

We spent the rest of the train ride talking, laughing, and playing games. We arrived at King Cross Station all too soon. 

“Please write and call,” Harry said to us. “I can’t survive off of Dudley’s company.”

“We will,” I said, nodding. “I promise.” 

I found my parents outside of the barrier, and tackled them into tight hugs. 

“We missed you, Pepper!” Mum cried. 

“Me too! And look,” I held up Bruce. “He’s okay!” 

“Your father cried for days,” Mum teased. “He was almost done planning the funeral when we got your letter that he was alive.” 

“It’s crazy,” I remarked as we walked to the car. “It’s a good thing Adrian caught him.”

“Who’s Adrian?”

“Oh, he’s a boy at my school. He’s in Fred and George’s year. He caught Bruce when he fell out of the flying car. He plays Quidditch too.”

“Is he a Gryffindor?” Dad asked as he loaded my trunk into the car. 

“Nope. He’s a Slytherin.”

“A Slytherin?” Mum questioned. “I thought you hated Slytherins. What happened to that Malfoy kid?”

“I hate Malfoy—not the others. Adrian is nice, and I told you about Theo, remember?”

“Oh right. Now tell us, what happened this year?”

I sunk into my seat. “Well, you’re not going to believe it, but…” 

∆ ∆ ∆

I sat in the garden with Dad. It was a burning hot August day, and we decided to cool off by sitting outside with a chessboard and a tall, cold glass of iced tea.

“It’s boiling!” Mum exclaimed as she joined us with a magazine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. 

“Checkmate,” Dad said, sipping his tea. 

I groaned. “How?”

“You left your center open, Pep.”

I examined the board. “Ugh, you’re right.”

“It’s too hot out here,” Dad sighed. 

“Indoors isn’t much better,” Mum replied. 

“Can’t you use some of your magic to cool us down, Pepper?” 

“William, she can’t use it outside of school, remember? I don’t fancy a visit from their government.”

“You’re right. Maybe we should—” He was cut off by his phone. “Oh God, now what?” 

He walked inside to answer his phone and came back a few moments later. “Guess who gets to go to work on this impossibly hot day?” 

“Seriously? You’ll faint!” I exclaimed. 

“I don’t really have a choice, Pep. Why don’t you go to the mall with your mother? They have great air conditioning.” 

“Can we Mum?” I asked. “I do need some new clothes.” 

“Of course we can! I’ll go get my purse and we’ll go right now. Go wait in the car.” 

“Good thinking, Dad. I just wish you could come with us.”

“We can always go together another time. Duty calls. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Bye, Dad.”

“Goodbye, Cam!” He kissed Mum quickly and then hopped into his car and drove away. 

“Well,” Mum began. “Let’s go. He didn’t give us a budget!” 

I had a great time at the mall with Mum. We were fortunate enough to stumble upon loads of summer sales, and we came back home with plenty of new clothes and accessories. By the time we got home, it was nearly time for dinner, and it was a lot cooler. 

“We should just order something for dinner,” Mum babbled as she unloaded our bags from the trunk. “Dad will be getting home soon, anyway. Here’s the key. Go unlock the door.” 

I skipped up to the front door and noticed that the door wasn’t locked. “Mum, it’s already unlocked.”

“What? I thought I locked it before I left.”

“You must have forgotten.”

“Most likely. Come on, let’s go.”

As soon as I stepped into the house, I got a bad feeling. Everything inside the house was normal, but something was off. 

I turned on the lights, and put the bags into the living room. “Hey—” I was interrupted by a loud, blood-curdling scream.

“Mum! Mum, what’s—” I froze. In our kitchen, a fat man with bushy hair and eyebrows stood before us. 

“Who the hell are you?” I questioned. 

“Oh my goodness!” he exclaimed. “I knew it! I knew it!” 

“What’s going on?” Mum demanded. “Get out of our house now or we’ll call the police!”

“The police?” the man let out a mocking laugh. “The police won’t save you now, you Muggle!” 

“Muggle?” I questioned. “Wait a minute. You’re a wizard? Who are you?” 

“What the fuck do you want from us?” Mum shrieked. 

“Quiet!” he hissed. “I need—”

“You need to get out of our house!” Mum yelled, pushing me behind her. “Pet–”

“For the love of Merlin,” the man groaned, interrupting Mum. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Mum.

“No, please!” she cried. “Pepper, I’m sorry! Pep—”

_ “Avada Kedavra!”  _

I had read enough books to know what that spell did. I watched in horror as Mum let out a scream and fell to the floor, dead. 

“Mum!” I yelled, crouching down. “No, Mum!” I looked up at the man. “What did you do to her?” 

“She was in the way! I’m just trying to please him!” 

“Please who? Please just leave us alone!” I shrieked. 

He frowned. “I can’t—” 

The door to the kitchen flew open, and Dad burst in. His eyes widened at the sight of me sitting next to Mum’s corpse, and at the intruder.

Dad gasped. “Who are you? What are you doing?” 

“He killed her,” I blurted. “He’s a wizard, Dad. He killed Mum!”

“What—” 

There was a loud crack outside of our house, and I heard Dumbledore’s voice. “Pepper?” 

The man paled and disappeared with another loud crack. I clutched onto Mum, holding her hand tightly. 

“Pepper?” 

“Who are you?” Dad asked nervously, stepping in front of me. 

“Dad, it’s okay,” I explained. “It’s Dumbledore. My headmaster.” 

“What happened to my wife, Headmaster Dumbledore?” Dad questioned. “Who was that man? What happened?” 

“He was here when we came back from the mall,” I said. “He was in the kitchen, and he said that he had to please his master.”

“His master? What does that mean?” Dad cried. “Please explain!” 

Dumbledore sighed. “I think that man, whoever he was, was a supporter of Voldemort.”

_ “Voldemort?”  _ I exclaimed. 

“He most likely killed your mother because she was a Muggle. So he could show support for Voldemort.”

I clenched my fists. “But why her?”

“I can’t tell you that, Pepper. He probably picked her because he was looking for the homes of Muggle-born students.”

“So he found us?” Dad questioned. 

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Atkinson, I’m afraid so.”

“Well what can we do?”

As Dad and Dumbledore continued to speak, I lay there, unmoving. 

I couldn’t believe that my mother was dead. The person who gave birth to me, who took care of me, who loved me more than anything else in the world. She protected me up until her last moments. She was the person I loved most in the world. 

And she was gone. 

∆ ∆ ∆

“Are you ready, Pepper?” 

I smoothed the front of my black dress. “Almost.”

“I’ll wait downstairs.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

I grabbed my hairbrush and brushed through my thick dark brown hair. It was rather unruly sometimes, and required a great deal of product to stay relatively normal. 

Once my hair was presentable, I put my shoes and headed downstairs. 

Today would be Mum’s funeral. It was going to be held at our local cemetery, and I had invited Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys. They all wrote back assuring me that they would be there. 

“You look pretty, Pep,” Dad remarked. “That dress is nice.”

“Thanks.” 

“Have you got everything?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He frowned. “Pepper, are you sure that you want to read the eulogy? I understand if—”

“I want to read it,” I cut in. “I’ll be okay.”

“Alright. Well, we better get going. We don’t want to be late.”

The two of us climbed into the car and drove in silence. I stared out the window as Dad kept his focus on the road. 

It had only been a week since Mum died, but it felt like an eternity. We were both grieving in different ways. While I hadn’t cried at all since Mum’s death. Instead of crying, I found myself living the same day over and over again. Dad on the other hand, would not stop crying. He cried at meals, while watching tv, and while he was trying to sleep. Nothing made him stop crying, not even chess. 

Once we arrived at the cemetery, we waited for everyone to arrive. It wouldn’t be a large gathering since Mum’s family was all dead. Her parents and her sister had also been murdered about a decade ago. It was a home invasion gone wrong. Dad’s side of the family came, and so did all of Mum’s friends. 

As the adults mingled, I sat by myself, sipping a plastic cup full of water. I tried to not to shake as I lifted the cup to my lips. 

“Pepper!”

I turned and saw Harry walking towards me. I flashed him a wan smile. 

“We’re so sorry,” Harry said as he embraced me. “This is terrible. I know how it feels.”

“Thanks, Harry. I don’t really know what to feel of it.”

“Nobody does. How’s your dad doing?”

I looked towards my dad, who was crying into a handkerchief with his mother. “Not well. He’s a crying mess.”

“Are you crying?”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t know if I will. But that’s not normal. I mean, people are supposed to cry.”

“I s’pose they’re expected to. But they don’t always. I know some people who don’t cry because once they cry, it’s real.”

I took a deep breath, realizing that he was right. “I don’t want it to be real.”

“I know.” He patted my shoulder awkwardly. “Do you want me to get you anything? More water?”

“No, I’m okay.” I sighed. “I’ll be okay eventually.”

We sat together quietly. I liked how Harry just let me sit with him in silence. We didn’t need to talk. We could just sit and be okay. 

“Hey Pepper.” I looked up to see Ron with the entirety of his family. 

Mrs. Weasley walked up to me and wrapped me in a bone-crushing hug. “I am so sorry for your loss, dear. It’s a most terrible thing, isn’t it?”

I nodded bleakly. “Thank you all for coming. I really appreciate it.”

“Well we wouldn’t leave our ickle Paprika all alone, now would we?” Fred asked as he and George stepped in front of me. 

“Paprika? Really?”

“Do you prefer Cinnamon?” Harry teased. I rolled my eyes and let out a chuckle. 

“I think she prefers Pepper,” Hermione cut in. “How are you?”

“I’m doing alright,” I replied. “Just getting through day by day.”

The ceremony itself wasn’t very long. I sat next to my father and my friends, kind of zoning out to what the priest was saying. Dad had to nudge me when it was time for the eulogy. 

Hermione squeezed my hand reassuringly, and I stood from my seat and made my way to the front.

“Hi everyone,” I began. “I was her daughter. I  _ am  _ her daughter.” My hands shook as I unfolded my sheet of paper. 

“My mother was my best friend. In fact, she was everyone’s best friend. She was the kind of mother who held you while you cried about a bully, and then took you to toilet paper their house ten minutes later.” There was a wave of laughter across the seats, and I tried to smile. But I knew it looked more like a grimace. 

“I could stand here and tell you everything I loved about my mother, but we’d be here forever. My mother was a good person. She was a wonderful person. She was funny, she liked to laugh, and she liked to make fun of me and my dad when we got angry during chess matches. She loved to cook and bake because she liked making boring things special.” My voice started to quiver. “She didn’t believe in the mundaneness of everyday life. She found a way to find the beauty in everything. A burnt shepherd’s pie was the perfect opportunity to learn more about cooking, and a burning hot summer day was the perfect opportunity to go shopping, without Dad knowing how much we spent, of course.”

I paused and took a deep, shaky breath. “My mother was a beautiful person. It baffles me that someone would murder someone so pure. She protected me up until her dying breath. And I can’t believe she’s gone.” I felt a tear slide down my face. “I’ve never said it out loud before, but she’s gone. My mother’s gone,” I sobbed, feeling a push of sadness. “My mother’s dead.”

I heard my father burst into tears. 

“I won’t say that I forgive her murderer. Because I don’t. I never will. I will never forgive him for killing the most precious person on this planet. He stole a friend, a daughter, a mother, and a wife. And we will never get that back.” I sniffed and wiped the tears off my face. “I don’t want us to leave being sad. I know that’s not what she would want. Instead, I want you to pick something small. Something ordinary, and find something to appreciate about it. Because I know that wherever my mother is, she’s doing the exact same thing.”

I sat back down, and my father hugged me. 

“Your mother would be so proud. So, so proud.”

After a short reception in the nearby park, Dad and I went home. We sat in the living room together, staring off into space. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be going to your friend’s house in a few days?” he asked. “For the last week of summer?”

I nodded. “Yeah. They’re staying at an inn in Diagon Alley, though. They want to keep Harry company.”

“What happened to him?”

“He ran away from his abusive aunt and uncle.”

He sucked in a breath and shook his head angrily. “How dare they be rude to that boy? He’s very sweet.”

“I know.”

“Well shouldn’t you get packing?”

I stared at him. “I’m not going. I need to stay here, with you.”

“You don’t need to, Pep. I want you to go.”

“But Dad, I can’t leave you alone.”

“Pepper, you need to go,” he insisted. “You need to get out of this house for a bit. Something terrible happened here. It’s a reminder.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. Being here haunted me. “What about you?”

“I think I’ll go stay in a very fancy hotel for a bit. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“What about the house?”

“We can think about selling it. Or we could keep it as a memory and live somewhere else.”

“I don’t know. This was Mum’s house.”

“We don’t have to decide now. Let’s just take a break, okay? Besides, I can’t have you watching me fall apart. I need to be strong for you.”

I shook my head. “No you don’t. We need to be strong together.”

He smiled. “When did you become so wise, Pepper?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “Must be all the magic. That reminds me, can I dye my hair?”

“What?”

“Can I dye my hair? I kind of want to know what I’d look like with blonde hair.”

“No,” he said quickly. “You can’t.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“You already know that I don’t like the idea of chemicals in your hair. It’s not natural.”

I sighed. “Worth a try. I’ll go pack.”

Dad had always had this strange vendetta against hair dye. He thought there were so many strange and abnormal ingredients in it, and none of us had ever dyed our hair before. I knew he meant well, but I really just wanted to see what it looked like. If this had been last year, I probably would’ve just dyed it anyway, but I didn’t want to make him more upset. I decided to save the teenage rebellion for some other year. 

That night, I dreamt again. 

_ “No, please!” she cried. “Pepper, I’m sorry! Pep—” _

_ “Avada Kedavra!” _

_ A flash of green light. Mum’s body hitting the floor. Her eyes staring up at me, wide with fear.  _

_ More green light.  _

_ Green light at the beach.  _

_ Green light at the park.  _

_ Green light at a random building.  _

_ Green light at a random house.  _

_ Green light at my house. _

_ A scream.  _

_ “No, please!” _

Then I woke up. I was being plagued with a repeating nightmare of Mum’s horrific death. I saw her dying followed by flashes of green light in different locations. 

And if I went back to sleep, the dream started over. 


	20. Carmine

_ It started with a whisper _

The next morning after breakfast, I traveled by Floo Powder to the Leaky Cauldron. I was hesitant to leave my father, but he insisted that it was for the best. 

When I arrived, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were waiting for me by the fireplace. 

“Hey Pepper!” 

“Hey,” I replied, dusting myself off. “How are you guys?” 

“We’re doing alright. How are you?” I noticed that their faces had worried expressions on them. 

I sighed. “I’m doing okay. Some nights are rougher than others.”

“You know that you didn’t have to come, right?” Ron asked. “If you wanted to stay home—”

“No,” I cut him off. “I talked to Dad, and we both need to get away from the house for a while. Especially since that stupid murderer could come back and kill me  _ and _ Dad.” 

“I still can’t believe that happened,” Hermione marveled. “That wizard had to be deranged. Have they found out his identity yet?”

I shook my head. “No. He was a fat man with bad hair. There’s loads of wizards who look like that.”

“They’ll find him,” Harry reassured. “I know they will. Dumbledore won’t let him get away with it.”

“I know. Now, enough about that. I need to find my room.” 

After I settled in, we decided to go ahead and buy our school supplies. First, we headed to Flourish and Blotts to buy our textbooks. 

“Blimey, Hermione!” Ron exclaimed as she grabbed book after book. 

“Well, I’m taking more new subjects than you, aren’t I?” she questioned as she reached for a copy of  _ A Beginner’s Guide to Muggle Studies _ . 

“Muggle studies? What are you taking Muggle Studies for?” Ron asked. “You’re Muggle-born! You already know all about them!” 

“But it’ll be fascinating learning about them from the wizarding point of view!” Hermione chirped. 

“Do you even plan on sleeping?” I questioned as I reached for a copy of  _ Unfogging the Future _ . Harry, Ron, and I had decided to take all the same extra subjects so that we could copy off each other’s work. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’ve got it all worked out, guys. It’s going to be a great year!” 

“Where are the Care for Magical Creatures books?” Harry asked.

I shrugged. “There’s a worker. Go ask.”

“Excuse me,” Harry began. “Could we have four copies of the  _ Monster Book of Monsters? _ ” 

The employee paled. “Oh dear God. Not again.” 

The four of us exchanged confused looks as he put on a thick pair of gloves and walked towards a cage full of snarling books. The poor guy was practically trembling as he reached into the cage and pulled out a book. They were furry, and tried to bite the worker, a few of them actually succeeding in doing so. 

“Here,” he sighed as he handed us the squirming books. “Be careful with those. They bite.”

_ “They what?”  _

“Is there anything we can do to keep them from biting us?” Hermione inquired politely. 

He shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe a rope. Some tape? We haven’t figured it out yet.”

We paid for our books—and some Spellotape—and headed towards the Apothecary, and then towards the Magical Creatures shop.

“I really want to buy an owl,” Hermione remarked. “I got some money from Mum and Dad as an early birthday present.”

“I need to go, too,” Ron added. “Scabbers needs to get checked over. Egypt didn’t agree with him, and he’s been even worse since he went missing.”

“He went missing?” Harry asked. “What happened?”

“I dunno. He just ran away one day and came back like three days later. Poor little rat’s been shaking ever since.” 

“Well, I need to go to get new robes,” I remarked. “Does anyone else?” 

They all shook their heads. “Mum took us yesterday,” Ron explained. “But we’ll go with you—”

“No, it’s okay,” I interrupted. “It’ll take a long time. You three go to the pet shop, and I’ll get my robes. Bruce doesn’t need anything, anyway. I’ll meet you back at the Leaky Cauldron.”

“Are you sure?” 

I nodded. “Positive. I’ll see you later.” 

The three of them walked into the pet shop, and I made my way to Madam Malkin’s. From the outside, it didn’t look too full. I strolled inside and a kind-looking woman came over to help me. 

Within a few minutes, she had me standing on a small platform while she took my measurements. As she pulled out her tape measurer, the bell connected to her door rang. Not wanting a pin to stab me, I didn’t turn around at first. 

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here,” a familiar voice drawled. Rolling my eyes, I turned to face Draco Malfoy. But once my eyes landed on him, I froze. 

He did not look the same way he had the last time I had seen him. 

He had grown several inches taller. Harry and Ron had also grown, but it was nothing compared to how much Malfoy had grown. He towered over my petite frame the way a skyscraper did with a house. 

His face had lost all of its childlike qualities. He no longer had any baby fat or hints of boyishness. It was like he had aged years in the months we had been apart. 

Even his hair was different. Instead of it being incredibly gelled back, it now hung messily around his face. The strands of platinum blonde hair looked soft, and they framed his pale face. 

In that moment, it occurred to me that Draco Malfoy was not ugly. In fact, he was anything but. 

Draco Malfoy was attractive. Draco Malfoy was  _ very _ attractive. And I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed it before, but he had always been attractive.

I nearly gagged as soon as the thought had entered my head. This was  _ Malfoy _ for crying out loud. No matter how good he looked, he was still the same prejudiced git from before. 

Besides, I told myself, he doesn’t even look that good anyway. 

“Malfoy,” I acknowledged. He stepped onto the platform next to me, where another employee began taking his measurements. 

“New robes?” As he spoke, I noticed that even his voice had changed, and it was now much deeper. 

“No, I just like to have people measure me.”

He scoffed. “Another summer goes by and you’re still as sarcastic as ever.”

“Another summer goes by and you’re still as  _ annoying  _ as ever,” I retorted. He let out a chuckle. 

“Grown quite a bit, haven’t you?”

“Nothing compared to you. I hardly recognized you.”

“Why? Because I’ve gotten hotter too?” The corners of lips twitched upwards. 

“As if. You’re still as ugly as ever,” I spat, knowing it was far from the truth. 

“You’re lying. But it’s okay. One day, you won’t be able to resist me.”

“Are you waiting for me to fall in love with you? Because trust me, it’s not going to happen,” I replied, knowing that that  _ was _ the truth. No matter how much he changed physically, I would never date him and his awful personality. 

“You wish,” he scoffed. “You’re the last person I’d ever fall for.”

“Glad we agree on something,” I mumbled. 

“Careful!” he shouted at the woman who was measuring him. “So, anything interesting this summer?”

I sighed. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Fiery, aren’t you, Atkinson? I don’t fancy standing here doing nothing for ages. Plus, you’ve must have done something with your Muggles this summer.”

I took a shaky breath. “You could say that.”

“Well what did you do? I’m not really sure what Muggles do. Did you try to teach them magic? Or did—”

“My mother was murdered,” I blurted. “By a random wizard.”

His cocky demeanor fell. “W-wait, what?”

“She was murdered.”

“By a wizard?”

“Are you deaf? That’s what I said.”

“That’s—”

“Go ahead,” I interrupted. “Laugh. I know you’re probably thrilled about a Muggle dying.”

“That’s terrible,” he said after a moment of silence. “I’d be devastated if my mother were killed. Are you okay?”

Shocked at his sudden civility, it took me a moment to respond. “I guess. It’s been a couple of weeks since it happened, so it’s not as bad as before. Why do you ask?”

“It’s called being polite, Mudblood,” he responded, his previous attitude back. 

_ “Language!”  _ Madam Malkin bellowed. Malfoy rolled his eyes at her. 

“It’s a term of endearment,” he quipped. I actually laughed at this, and he smirked. 

“Endearment? I didn’t know that you liked me, Malfoy,” I remarked. “I thought you said you weren’t going to fall in love with me.”

“I don’t love you, Atkinson, but if that helps you sleep at night, then by all means, keep thinking about it.”

Our robes were finished at that time, and I rushed out of the shop with my purchase. Much to my dismay, Malfoy followed me. 

“Trying to get rid of me, Atkinson?”

I rolled my eyes. “A girl can dream.”

“I’m hurt!   
“Great.” 

“Where are you off to now? To buy your books?”

“Nope.”

“Then where?”

“Why? Are you planning to come with me?” I questioned. 

“Of course,” he answered. “Only because it bothers you so much.”

I groaned. I didn’t want to tell him where I was actually going, because I didn’t want him to show up to the Leaky Cauldron every single day to bother me. “I’m going to get ice cream,” I replied, choosing the first thing that came to mind. 

“Lucky for you, I happen to love ice cream,” he effused. 

“Lucky me,” I said dryly. 

“Florean Fortescue’s has the best ice cream,” he continued. “Have you tried it?”

“No.”

“Well we  _ have  _ to go there then.”

I said nothing as we walked to the brightly-colored ice cream parlor. It had a very antique, vintage feel to it. We stepped inside, and to my great relief, nobody we knew was inside. The last thing I needed was to be in the midst of rumors. 

My eyes wandered through the tins of ice cream, looking for my favorite flavor. It was rather unusual, so I was surprised to find it. 

“One peppermint ice cream please,” I ordered. 

“Peppermint?” Malfoy questioned. “Who likes peppermint ice cream?”

“I do,” I said defensively. “It’s delicious, but of course you would know nothing about taste.”

He ignored my comment and turned to the server. “I’ll take pistachio, please.”

“ _ Pistachio? _ Are you kidding me?” I demanded. “You’re ragging on me for liking peppermint ice cream, but your favorite flavor is  _ pistachio? _ I was right. You do know nothing about taste.”

“Pistachio is the superior flavor, Atkinson. I’ll bet that you haven’t even tried it.”

I shook my head furiously. “Never have and never will.”

“Here you go,” the server said, handing us our respective cones. “Now, are you together?”

I quickly responded with no while Malfoy replied with yes. I turned to him with wide eyes. 

“We are  _ not _ together!”

“He means the bill, you idiot.”

“Still! I can pay for myself,” I insisted, fumbling through my pockets for the proper amount of money. 

He ignored me and handed the worker some coins. “Probably. But I just paid.”

“Well let me pay you—”

“Merlin, I’m just trying to be nice,” he groaned, sitting down at a table. “Now sit and eat your ice cream before it melts. Wouldn’t want to waste my money, now would you?”

“I don’t think you’d notice if it was gone,” I muttered under my breath. If he heard me, he didn’t say anything. He stared at me pointedly. 

“What?” I asked irritably after a few awkward, quiet moments. 

“I’m just trying to comprehend how someone could enjoy peppermint ice cream.”

I sighed. “With their taste buds.” 

“No, really? I had no idea.” He rolled his eyes as he ate his disgusting, Slytherin green dessert. “Isn’t it minty?”

“That’s why they call it pepper _ mint _ , isn’t it?”

“Isn’t it too minty though?”

“No. Isn’t pistachio too salty?” 

“I like how the salty and the sweet mix together.” 

“I don’t even like pistachios,” I muttered. “They’re gross.” 

“They are not. I’m starting to think that you’re the one with no taste.” 

I rolled my eyes. “One day Malfoy, you’ll try peppermint and never look back.”

“I could say the same thing about your ridiculous vendetta against pistachio.”

“I s’pose you could. But the difference is, peppermint beats pistachio. It always will.”

“How can you say that when you’ve never tried it?” he questioned. “You’ll probably have one lick and love it. You’ll never want anything else.” 

“That won’t happen. I know it won’t.”

He threw me a coy smirk. “Whatever floats your boat.” 

“Careful, careful!” the server yelled at a toddler. “Don’t rip that, it’s important!”

I looked at the poster by the child’s face. It was a picture of a man screaming his head off, holding an Azkaban prison plaque. 

“Who’s that?” I asked Malfoy. 

“Who?”

“That man. On the poster.” 

“You don’t know who that is?” he asked in disbelief. 

“Well I wouldn’t be asking if I knew who he was, now would I?” 

“That’s Sirius Black.”

“Sirius Black?”

“He’s escaped from Azkaban. He killed thirteen people with a single curse.”

My jaw dropped.  _ “Thirteen?” _

Malfoy nodded. “He’s really dangerous. Nobody’s escaped Azkaban before.” 

I focused my attention back to the poster. There was no doubting that the man looked insane. But there was something about his eyes, something that made me uneasy… 

I finished the last of my ice cream and cleared my throat. “Thank you for the ice cream.”

“You’re welcome, Mudblood.”

“I’ll be on my way now,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “I’ll see you at school.”

“Can't wait,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “I had loads of fun on our date.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “This was  _ not  _ a date, Malfoy.”

He smirked. “But you wish it was, don’t you?”

I let out a snort. “Not even a little bit.”

∆ ∆ ∆

Once I returned to the Leaky Cauldron, I was bombarded by questions from Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 

“Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!” Hermione explained. 

“I got some ice cream—”

“I don’t see any,” Ron accused, interrupting my explanation. 

“I ate in the store—”

“By yourself?”

“Jesus, Ron let me finish! I had ice cream with Malfoy.”

Harry’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.  _ “With Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?” _

“No, Joe Malfoy. Yes, Draco Malfoy!”

“Why?” Harry looked like I had just told him that I had eaten a frog. 

“Believe me, it wasn’t my choice,” I explained. “I had the great misfortune of running into him at Madam Malkin’s, and he decided to be an annoying prick and follow me around. I didn’t want him to start showing up here, so I told him I was going to get ice cream.”

“And he tagged along?”

I nodded. “To bother me. We just ate our ice cream and then I left.”

Harry shook his head. “At least we won’t be seeing him here. Thanks for taking one for the team, Pepper. I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant.”

“It wasn’t terrible.”

The three of them stared at me in shock. 

“I’m not saying I would do it again!” I sighed impatiently. “I’m just saying that it wasn’t terrible.”

“You don’t have to downplay it,” Ron commented. “We appreciate your sacrifice.”

I was slightly peeved that they didn’t believe me. I didn’t bother in telling them again, and even if I wanted to, I didn’t get the chance. The remaining Weasleys all came downstairs for dinner, swarming the room. 

“Oh hello Pepper dear,” Mrs. Weasley greeted warmly. “How are you?” 

“I’m good, Mrs. Weasley, how are you—”

There was a loud crash. “SCABBERS!” 

We turned to see Ron clutching his pet rat tightly. “You keep that thing away from him or I’ll turn him into a tea cozy!” 

“It’s a cat, Ronald. What do you expect? It’s in his nature,” Hermione replied, stroking the fur of a fat ginger cat. 

“Bruce has never tried to eat Scabbers!” Ron shouted. 

“Bruce has been domesticated for  _ years _ ,” Hermione retorted. “Crookshanks isn’t used to it yet.” 

“You got a cat?” I questioned. 

“Can you believe that nobody wanted him? He was all alone! I had to buy him!” she exclaimed. 

I glanced at the cat, who seemed to have great anger issues. “Maybe he and Bruce will get along.”

Her eyes lit up. “Probably! I'll put them in the same room. I bet they’ll have loads of fun!” She hopped up the stairs with a squirming Crookshanks in her arms. 

“He seems—”

“Deadly?” Ron interrupted. 

“I was going to say eccentric, but yeah, a little bit.” 

She came back down without the cat. “They seem to enjoy each other’s company.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce is dead by the time dinner’s over,” Ron muttered. I elbowed him in the ribs. 

“Hello Paprika!” George shouted as he slid down the railing of the stairs. 

_ “Paprika?”  _ I groaned. 

“Ron told us all about the fabulous nicknames that Lockhart gave you,” Fred answered, appearing beside his brother. “Paprika was our favorite.” 

“Wonderful. How was Egypt?” The Weasleys had been the winners of the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw. They had used the money to visit Ron’s oldest brother Bill, who worked as a curse-breaker in Egypt. 

“Ron didn’t show you the clipping?” 

“I haven’t shown anyone!” Ron objected. 

“No, not a soul,” Fred retorted, rolling his eyes. “Unless you count Tom.”

“The day maid.”

“The night maid.”

“The cook.”

“That bloke who fixed the toilet.”

“And that wizard from Belgium.”

Ron scowled as I laughed.

My week at the Leaky Cauldron was a fantastic one. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I frequented Diagon Alley every single day, looking through the various shops and buying ice cream at Florean Fortescue’s. As much as I hated to admit it, Malfoy was right. They had the best ice cream that I had ever tasted. 

But my favorite pastime was visiting the Firebolt broom. It was the newest broomstick, and a favorite for next year’s Quidditch World Cup. I wanted nothing more than to buy it, but it was so expensive that it didn’t even have a price. Still, I liked looking at it and wondering how it would fare against the other brooms. 

Harry told us all about the miserable time he had with his aunt and uncle. Apparently, he blew up his Aunt Marge after she insulted his parents. Ron and I found this hilarious, while Hermione scolded him about his recklessness. 

Much to my delight, I never saw Malfoy again. I didn’t particularly fancy another run-in with him. God knows what he’d do to annoy me this time. 

The week ended all too soon. Before I knew it, it was the night before we returned to Hogwarts. We all sat at dinner, eating one of our final meals at the Leaky Cauldron. 

“How are we getting to the station tomorrow, Dad?” Fred asked as we started dessert. 

“The Ministry’s providing a few cars,” he replied. We all looked up at him. 

“Why?” Percy pressed. 

“It’s because of you, Percy,” George answered. “They heard about Hogwarts’s new Head Boy and they want him to ride in style.”

I covered a laugh with a cough. Percy had been named Head Boy, and it was all he ever talked about. He constantly polished his badge, and he wore it all the time. 

“Well, we don’t have a car anymore so they—er—let us borrow one.” 

I didn’t quite believe Mr. Weasley’s explanation, but I let it go. After dinner, Mr. Weasley asked to speak with Harry privately. 

I went upstairs to finish packing my trunk. On my way up there, Fred and George pulled me into their room.

“Look what we just did,” Fred boasted. He handed me Percy’s Head Boy badge, which now read  _ Bighead Boy _ .

“Nice,” I laughed. “He’s going to freak out when he sees this.”

I spent a solid hour helping the twins make the change to Percy’s badge somewhat permanent. After helping them, I went to my room, packed, and then fell asleep.

But like every other night this week, I had the same dream. 

_ “No, please!” she cried. “Pepper, I’m sorry! Pep—” _

_ “Avada Kedavra!” _

_ A flash of green light. Mum’s body hitting the floor. Her eyes staring up at me, wide with fear.  _

_ More green light.  _

_ Green light at the beach.  _

_ Green light at the park.  _

_ Green light at a random building.  _

_ Green light at a random house.  _

_ Green light at my house. _

_ A scream.  _

_ “No, please!” _

But unlike every other night, I woke up screaming. Mrs. Weasley burst in, looking horrified. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She rushed over to me. “Are you hurt?” 

I tried to catch my breath. “N-nightmare. Of my Mum.” 

She gave me a sad look. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. “No. I just want to sleep. But every time I close my eyes, it’s the same thing.”

“I have just the thing for you.” She left the room and came back with a purple potion bottle. “Dreamless Sleep Potion. It’s not a good idea to take it every night, but I think you could use it tonight.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Really.” 

She smiled. “You rest now. You have a big day tomorrow.” 

Once she left, I downed the potion. And for the first time in weeks, I fell asleep and saw nothing. 


	21. Orchid

_ I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you  _

The next morning, we hurried to the platform. Much to Mrs. Weasley’s delight, we were perfectly on time, unlike last year’s fiasco. 

“Ron!” Mrs. Weasley screamed as the train started to leave the station. She barely had enough time to hand him Scabbers, who still wasn’t looking so good. 

“For the hundredth time,” Harry huffed as we searched for an empty compartment. “I didn’t mean to blow her up. I just lost control.”

Ron and I laughed boisterously. Hermione gave us a disapproving look. 

“Honestly you two, it’s not funny!” she scolded. “Harry was lucky not to be expelled.”

“I think I was lucky not to get arrested,” Harry replied truthfully. We stumbled upon a compartment that was empty except for one person—a grown man. 

“Come on,” Hermione motioned. “Everywhere else is full.”

As we filed into the compartment, I got a better look at the sleeping man. He wore very shabby clothes that looked like he had owned them for at least ten years. He seemed to be rather young, his mid-thirties at the most. But what struck me the most was how exhausted he looked. He looked gaunt and rather ill. 

“Who do you think that is?” Ron asked as we got comfortable. 

“Professor R. J. Lupin,” Hermione answered promptly, adjusting Crookshanks on her lap. 

“Do you know everything? How does she know everything?” 

“It’s on his suitcase, Ronald.”

“Oh.” 

“Do you really think he’s asleep?” Harry questioned. “Pepper, can you check?” 

I shifted closer to the stranger and carefully peered over him. “He’s asleep,” I confirmed once I heard him let out a soft snore. “Why?” 

“I’ve got something to tell you.” 

“Let me get this straight,” I said once Harry finished explaining what Mr. Weasley had told him last night. “Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban to come after you?” 

“Pretty much.”

“That’s crazy! Can’t you have one quiet year?” 

“I guess not.”

“But they’ll catch him, won’t they?” Hermione inquired. “I mean, everyone’s looking for him.” 

“Sure,” Ron replied. “Except no one’s ever broken out of Azkaban before. And he’s a murderous, raving lunatic.” 

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said dryly. 

I sighed and stood up. “All this serial killer talk is freaking me out. I’m going to buy some sweets. Anyone want anything?” 

They shook their heads no and I left the compartment in search of the trolley witch. I had to trek across the entire train before I found her. 

“One Peppermint Toad please,” I ordered politely. I grimaced as soon as I saw Malfoy sauntering towards me, a smug smile on his face. 

“You like Peppermint Toads?” he asked incredulously, leaning against the side of the train closest to me.

“Yeah,” I replied as I handed the witch a few coins. 

“How? They give you that terrible feeling in your stomach.”

“I don’t mind it.” I bit into my candy and started the long journey to my compartment. 

“You know Mudblood, I just thought of something,” he said as he followed me. 

“You have thoughts? Who knew?” I murmured. 

“So you obviously have this obsession with peppermint—”

I snorted. “I’d hardly call it an obsession.” 

“—and since we’re friends now—”

“We are  _ not  _ friends,” I interrupted. 

He rolled his eyes. “We went on a  _ date _ , Atkinson. I think that makes us friends.”

“It wasn’t a date!” I exclaimed hotly. “You wouldn’t leave me alone—” 

“Can you let me finish?” 

“Fine,” I spat, crossing my arms. “But hurry before I get annoyed and hex you.” 

“I have a new name for you.”

“Oh goodie,” I chirped with mock enthusiasm. “Is it a new variation of Mudblood? MB? Muddy?” 

“Even better. Are you ready for it?” He raised his eyebrows in excitement. 

“So ready,” I answered dryly. 

“Peppermint. From now on, I’m going to call you Peppermint. Get it?”

My eyes widened. “You will  _ not _ call me that!” 

“Oh I think I will,” he effused. “You seem to like it.” 

“Malfoy, I’m serious! Do  _ not _ call me that. I prefer Mudblood.” 

“Malfoy? Oh come on,  _ Peppermint _ ,” he whined. “Aren’t we friends after our date? You need to call me something else.” 

I crossed my arms. “It wasn’t a date. But fine. What do you want me to call you?” 

He stopped walking, and leaned down next to me, his mouth nearly touching my ear. I was suddenly very aware of how close his body was to mine, and how I didn’t exactly despise it. 

“Call me Draco.” 

I felt shivers travel down my spine. His hair tickled my ear, and I could smell his cologne. After he spoke, he lingered by my side, allowing me to absorb even more of his unnervingly heady scent. 

It took me longer than I care to admit to come to my senses. I stepped away from him and faced him with a facade of confident ambiguity.

“I’ll call you Draco when you stop calling me Mudblood. So never.”

I spun on my heel, not bothering to wait for his response. But I didn’t get very far. I had taken no more than five steps when the train lurched and threw me back. 

“Careful, Peppermint,” Malfoy drawled. I scowled at him. 

“What happened? We can’t be there yet.”

“We’re not. It must—” The lights started flickering, and a chill came over me. The whole train shook, and I started to feel uneasy. 

“What the hell is going on?” Malfoy demanded. 

Before I could even think about replying, the doors slid open, and a strange creature entered the train. 

I had never seen anything like it before. It looked a lot like a ghost, but dressed in ripped, ragged black robes. It’s face was covered by its hood, and it had long, bony arms. 

Malfoy paled. “W-w-what‘s going on? Help! Help!”

After that creature entered the train, another one did. And another. And another. 

I stood frozen, watching the monsters. The chill in my body intensified, and I felt my heart race as it approached me. 

When it was no more than five feet away, I started feeling horrible. I felt myself wallowing in despair, reliving my worst moments. It was as if all the happiness had been sucked from my body, and I would never get it back. 

My eyes started to flutter. I felt myself slipping, and right before I fainted, I heard a scream. A woman’s scream. 

It was my mother’s scream, but it was weirdly distorted. 

_ “No, please!” _

Then green light. 

Then everything was black. 

“Wake up! Come on, don’t be stubborn. Wake up!”

My eyes flew open, and I found myself staring right at Malfoy. His face was right over mine, and he let out an exasperated sigh. He slunk down to the floor. 

“About time. Are you alright?”

I propped myself up on my elbows and rubbed my eyes. “What happened?” 

“Dementors! Can you believe it?”

“What?”

“Oh right.” He rolled his eyes before continuing. “Dementors. The guards of Azkaban.”

“Why are they here?”

“They’re not here anymore.”

“Why were they here then?”

“I don’t know. I s’pose they were looking for Sirius Black.”

“Why would Sirius Black—” I cut myself off, remembering what Harry had said earlier. Sirius Black was looking for him. Would Sirius Black really get on a train full of students?

As I pondered that possibility, I became aware of my pounding headache and unsettled stomach. I rubbed my forehead, desperate to alleviate some of the pain. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You were screaming.”

“What?”

“When you fainted. A dementor came near you, and you fell and started screaming. Nearly ruptured one of my eardrums.”

“I fell?”

“Right onto the floor. And you were screaming.” Upon hearing this, I was confused. If I had fallen, wouldn’t have I hit my head on the floor? And I wasn’t even in the same place I had been standing before. 

Did Malfoy catch me? 

He did. And he moved me. 

“What was I screaming?” I asked, brushing the thought away. 

“You didn’t say anything. You were just screaming.”

“It was the dementor, I think. Thanks for saving me, by the way.” 

“What was I supposed to do? I don’t know the spell for getting rid of dementors. Was I supposed to tackle it down?”

I groaned, and stood up. 

“I don’t think you should do that,” he advised 

“What are you, my father?” I snapped. “I’m fine.”

“You feel fine?”

“Yes,” I lied. “Now, what does a dementor do anyway?”

“They feed on happy memories, leaving you with the sad ones. Did you feel it?”

That explained Mum’s screams. I nodded. “Did you faint too?”

“No. Not me, not anyone else. Only you.”

Great. 

“I’m going back to my compartment. I need to lie down.”

“Can you make it?”

“I’ll be fine. What, are you worried?”

“No. I just don’t need people tripping over your unconscious body. Germs, you know?”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay.”

I slowly walked back to the compartment, feeling worse with each step. Why had nobody else fainted? Was there something wrong with me?

I arrived at the door, only to find it blocked by Lupin. 

“Pepper!” Harry cried. He was on the floor, and he held a thick piece of chocolate in his hand. “Are you okay?”

Lupin spun around and looked at me. “Pepper?”

“Yeah.” 

He blinked. “What an unusual name.”

“My parents got it from a comic book.”

He smiled mirthlessly. “Did they really?”

“Yeah. They—”

“Where were you?” Ron interrupted. “You were gone for ages!”

“Did you see the dementors?” I asked. When they nodded, I continued. “Did any of you faint?”

“I did,” Harry vocalized. “Did you?”

I nodded. “In the corridor.”

“Take this,” Lupin instructed, handing me my own slab of chocolate. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

I nibbled the chocolate and found that he was right. I continued to eat as he introduced himself. 

“My name is Professor Remus Lupin. It’s nice to meet you, Pepper.” He stuck out a hand which I shook. 

“I’m Pepper Atkinson. It’s nice to meet you too.”

His eyes were glossy as he continued to speak. “I need a word with the driver. Are you okay?”

We nodded and he left. 

“Hermione and Ron didn’t faint,” Harry said, eating his chocolate. 

“Neither did Malfoy or anyone else,” I added. 

“Malfoy?”

“He was with me when it happened.”

“With you?”

“She went to get sweets, remember?” Hermione reminded him. 

“Oh right. Anyway, did any of you hear screaming?”

Ron shook his head. “I felt dreadful, like I was never going to be cheerful again. But I didn’t hear screaming.”

“Me either,” Hermione added. 

“I did. I heard my mother screaming. It was what she said when she…” I trailed off. 

“I heard a woman,” Harry said after a moment. “She was screaming.”

“Nobody was screaming, Harry,” Hermione said. 

∆ ∆ ∆

It was safe to say that the dementor situation greatly distressed me. I was on edge the entire train ride back, hoping that they wouldn’t return. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all told me about some sort of spell that Lupin used that drove the dementors away, but he hadn’t muttered the incantation or told them what it was. 

Much to my relief, the dementors didn’t return. I was glad, because the sound of my mother’s screams truly horrified me. Sure I heard them in my dreams, but they had been so much worse with the dementor around. 

The scream was magnified and distorted and flashes of green light plagued my mind as we neared Hogwarts. I tried to push it away, but it kept finding a way to creep back up on me once I had forgotten about it. 

After a mostly silent carriage ride, we arrived at Hogwarts and sat down to the start of the term feast.

“Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!” Dumbledore boomed. “I have a few things to say, before we become befuddled by our excellent feast. First, I'm pleased to welcome Professor R. J. Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Good luck to you, Professor.” 

Lupin rose from his seat and shyly waved to the students before sitting back down. Most of the other teachers seemed to really like him, but I noticed that Snape was giving him a nasty glare, nastier than usual. 

“Of course,” Hermione whispered. “That’s how he knew to give you the chocolate.” 

“Psst! Potter!” 

I turned to see Malfoy with his obnoxious group of friends. Theo caught my eye and gave me a friendly wave. 

“Is it true you fainted?” he taunted. “I mean, you actually fainted? Besides you and Slytherin’s very own Mudblood, nobody else fainted.” 

I glanced at Petunia Vixens, who looked rather pale. So Harry and I weren’t the only ones, I thought to myself. 

“I fainted too, Malfoy. You were there. Or are you too stupid to remember?” I retorted. 

His face briefly held a look of shock before replacing it with a sneer. “Well, I don’t necessarily consider you that important.”

“Oh I think you do, especially since you caught me when I fell and moved me to the side.”

“Me?” he questioned. “I did not!” 

“Well then why was I in a different place when I woke up?” 

“That dementor sure affected your brain, Mudblood. I—”

“Or maybe,  _ Malfoy, _ you just—” 

“Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs,” Dumbledore announced, interrupting my conversation with Malfoy. “Fortunately, I'm delighted to announce that his place will be filled by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid!”

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I clapped furiously for Hagrid, who looked ecstatic. 

“Finally, on a more disquieting note,” he continued, “Hogwarts, at the request of the Ministry of Magic, will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban, until such a time as Sirius Black is captured. Now whilst I’ve been assured that their presence will not disrupt our day-to-day activities, a word of caution.” He paused and looked at us seriously. “Dementors are vicious creatures. They’ll not distinguish between the one they hunt and the one who gets in their way. It is not in the nature of a dementor to be forgiving. But you know, happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked Harry. 

He shrugged. “I dunno.” 

Our plates were filled with food then, and the feast began. After today’s events, I found that I wasn’t very hungry, and I ate little. 

After dinner, I didn’t go to the common room right away. Instead, I decided to linger around the corridors for a bit, hoping that Head Boy Percy wouldn’t catch me and give me detention. 

I tried to get my mind off the dementor situation. Before I had been attacked, I had briefly forgotten about what had happened to my mother. But now, the incident was fresh in my mind, eating me away. 

I found a secluded corner of the castle and sat down, trying to clear my mind for a moment. 

“What are you doing here?” 

I turned to see Adrian Pucey, who had a prefect’s badge pinned to his robes. 

I stood up. “Oh, sorry. I’ll go now—”

“No, it’s fine,” he said quickly. “I just—are you okay?” 

I sighed. “I’m fine. Just a bit shaken up from the whole dementor episode. I’m sure you heard that I fainted. Malfoy’s probably spreading it all around Slytherin house.”

“Actually, I didn’t hear,” he replied, astonishing me. “I only heard that Harry and Petunia fainted. Are you okay?”

“I will be. I just needed to clear my mind before bed,” I explained. “Also, I didn’t know you were a prefect!” 

“I got the letter this summer,” he smiled. 

“Well I guess I’ll be your first detention then,” I noted. 

“I’m not giving you detention,” he told me. A smile crept on to my face. 

“Really?” 

“But just this once,” he articulated. “I won’t be able to save you all of the time. You’ll ruin my reputation as a prefect.” 

I laughed. “Thank you, Adrian. I promise not to do it again.” 

“I feel like that’s a lie…” 

“Fine. I won’t do it when you patrol the corridors. Deal?” 

“Deal. Now come on.” He started walking away, and I scrambled after him. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I’m taking you to your common room. Otherwise, you might run into a prefect, and they will give detention.” 

Thank God he walked me, because we just so happened to run into Percy, who seemed eager to give his first punishment. Adrian quickly explained that he had already taken care of me, and Percy stalked off rather disappointedly. 

“Thank you,” I said once we reached the portrait. “For everything.”

“It’s no problem. Goodnight, Pepper.”

“Goodnight.”

I climbed through the portrait hole and went straight to my room, feeling only mildly relieved. 

“Where were you?” Hermione asked.

“Wandering the halls. I needed to get my mind off what happened on the train.” 

I could tell Hermione was torn between scolding me for breaking the rules, and comforting me. Thankfully, she chose the latter. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m okay. I just need to rest.” 

“Okay. But if you need to talk, I’m always here, okay?” 

I nodded and climbed into bed. It took me a while to fall asleep, but eventually I did. 

I was visited once again by the green light. 

∆ ∆ ∆

When it was time to wake up in the morning, I was already awake. I had tried to go to sleep three times, and I had woken up each time drenched in sweat. I instead settled for reading a book that Mum had gotten me last year. I had never gotten around to reading it, and it was pretty good. 

I dressed quickly and headed to breakfast with Hermione, where we received our time tables. 

“Wait a minute.” I glanced at Hermione’s schedule a second time. “You’re scheduled for two classes at 9!” 

“I know.”

“But you can’t go to both of them. You—”

“I’ve got it all figured out, Pepper,” she dismissed. 

“Got what figured out?” Ron asked through a mouthful of food. 

“Oh, nothing.”

Ron was much too engrossed in his breakfast to further question Hermione. I wondered how she planned on attending two classes at once, and I came to two conclusions. Either she attended one or the other depending on the day, or she was time-traveling. 

I decided that it was definitely the former. 

After breakfast, Harry, Ron, and I headed to Divination, our very first class of the day, which just so happened to be our first elective class. Hermione didn’t come with us, even though she had the same class, insisting that she would see us there. 

Divination was held on top of one of the towers, and the room was decorated with eccentricity. The room was mostly red, which I knew the Slytherins wouldn’t appreciate. There were multiple round tables with two seats, and each table had a teapot and two cups placed precisely in the middle. 

“I’ll sit with Hermione,” I told Harry and Ron, sitting down at a random table. They sat at the table next to me, and we fished our books out of our bags. 

Slowly, students started to trickle in. I noticed that a greater number of students took this class than I expected. I flipped through my book while I waited for Hermione to enter. 

“What a coincidence!” Malfoy exclaimed, standing over my table. 

“A coincidence indeed,” I replied flatly. 

“I didn’t know you were taking this class.”

“Probably because I didn’t tell you.”

“What else are you taking?” he asked, placing his arms on the table. Like the day before, he was close—too close. 

“Just this and Care of Magical Creatures.” 

“Another coincidence! Those are the exact same classes I’m taking, Atkinson. Looks like fate is throwing us together.”

“Wish it wouldn’t,” I muttered. 

“Oh don’t say that. One day you’ll be so in love with me that I’ll have to beat you off with a stick

“Can’t wait!” I exclaimed with mock enthusiasm. I returned to my book, only to find him dropping his bag on the floor and taking the empty seat next to me. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Sitting.” 

“No, no, no,” I repeated. “Go sit somewhere else.”

“Why? I want to sit here.” 

“Hermione’s going to sit here,” I replied. 

“I don’t see her.”

“She’ll be here.” 

“Then I’ll leave when she gets here.”

“She told you to leave Malfoy,” Harry warned. 

Malfoy turned to face Harry. “I don’t remember asking you, Potter.” 

“I’m not kidding, Malfoy, I—”

“Oh relax, Peppermint. I don’t bite.”

“I  _ told _ you not to—”

“Welcome my children!” A woman with frizzy curly hair and thick circular glasses waltzed into the room.  “ In this room, you shall explore the mysterious art of Divination. In this room, you shall discover if you possess the Sight.” She paused for dramatic effect and then went on. “Hello, I am Professor Trelawney. Together, we shall cast ourselves into the future. This term, we’ll focus on the art of reading tea leaves. Take the cup of the person sitting opposite you. What do you see? Broaden your minds! You must look beyond!”

I scowled, and took Malfoy’s cup. 

“What a load of rubbish!” I turned to see Hermione sitting with Harry and Ron, who looked equally as confused. 

“Where did you come from?” Ron inquired. 

“Me? I’ve been here the whole time,” she replied simply. 

“Then why didn’t you sit with me?” I hissed. 

She shrugged. “Malfoy was already sitting with you.”

Malfoy flashed me a smug smile and I rolled my eyes, focusing back on his cup. 

“What do you see Peppermint?” 

I huffed. “Don’t call me that. And I see… a broomstick.”

“A broomstick? What does that mean?” 

“I’m checking.”

“Probably that I’ll beat Potter this year,” he taunted. 

“Actually no. It means that you’re going to experience changes in life,” I clarified. 

“Like beating Potter.”

“No. It’ll probably be something stupid like a vacation or something,” I grumbled. “What does mine say?” 

“Let’s see.” He peered into the cup, twisting it this way and that. “I see a cross which means trials and suffering. And I also see a heart, which means love—” he raised his eyebrows at me. “—and then you have three lines, which means change.” 

“Okay, so it means that I’m going to fall in love, suffer, and experience change. Nice.” 

“Who do you love Atkinson?” he pressed. 

“You,” I said dryly. 

“Really?”

I snorted. “No.”

“Then who?” 

“Nosy aren’t you? Why do you care?” 

“I’m simply curious. Who?”

“My cat.” 

“No, really.”

“My cat. I love him very much. He’s a great pet.” 

“You!” Trelawney yelled, rushing towards Ron. Malfoy and I stopped to see what she was doing. “Your aura is pulsing! What do you see?” 

“Well, Harry’s got sort of a wonky cross,” Ron began. “That’s trials and suffering. And that there could be the sun, and that’s happiness. So you’re going to suffer, but you’re going to be happy about it.” 

“Let me see.” Trelawney took the cup from him, looked into it, and let out a scream that made me drop Malfoy’s cup. 

“Oh my dear boy,” she sighed. “You have the Grim.”

“The Grin?” Seamus yelled from across the room. “What’s the Grin?”

“Not the Grin you idiot,” Bem shouted. “The Grim.”

“What’s the Grim?” I asked. 

_ “Taking the form of a giant spectral dog, it is among the darkest omens in our world. It is an omen of death.”  _

Everyone stared at Harry, who ducked his head. The class ended at that time, and I rushed up to the three. 

“You don’t think the Grim has anything to do with Sirius Black, do you?” I questioned as we walked to our next class. 

Hermione shook her head. “If you ask me, Divination is a woolly discipline. Now Ancient Runes, that’s a fascinating subject.”

“Ancient Runes? Exactly how many classes are you taking?” Ron asked. 

“A fair few.”

“But Ancient Runes is at the exact same time as Divination. You’d have to be in two classes at once.” 

“Don’t be silly, Ron. How could I be in two places at once?” 

As Hermione and Ron continued to bicker about Hermione’s odd schedule, I hung back with Harry. 

“Do  _ you _ think it has anything to do with Sirius Black?” 

He shrugged. “I dunno. I did see a black dog the night I blew up my aunt. But that doesn’t count, right?” 

“Did it look like the dog in the cup?” He nodded grimly. “Well, I’m sure it was just a coincidence.”

“Right,” he doubted. “Hey, why’d Malfoy sit with you?” 

“Ugh, don’t even get me started on him!” I groaned as we neared Hagrid’s hut. “He knows it bothers me when he’s around me, so he’s now taken to following me to irk me.” 

“But why doesn’t he follow us?”

“Probably because he knows it bothers me the most. I’m sure he’ll get bored eventually.” 

“Gather around now!” Hagrid instructed. “I’ve got a real treat for you. Follow me.”

We followed Hagrid into a clearing in the Forbidden Forest. “Open your books to page 49.” 

“Exactly how do we do that?” Malfoy asked rudely. 

Hagrid’s face fell as he examined everyone’s taped books. “Have none of you been able to open your books?” 

Everyone shook their heads.

“Well you stroke the spine, of course,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I think they’re funny,” Hermione told him. 

Malfoy snickered. “Oh, yeah. Terribly funny. Really witty. God this place has gone to the dogs. Wait until my father hears that Dumbledore’s got this oaf teaching classes.” 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry spat. 

Malfoy smirked as he looked at Harry. Then, his demeanor changed from smug to scared. He pointed behind Harry. “Dementor! Dementor!” 

Everyone spun around only to find the sky completely void of any creatures. When we turned back to Malfoy, he and his goons had their hoods up, mocking Harry. 

“Just ignore him,” I advised. “I wouldn’t listen to an idiot.” 

“Are you scared too, Atkinson?” he taunted. 

“No because I don’t believe anything that comes out of your fat mouth,” I retorted. 

He gave me a glare. “Well I bet Slytherin’s Mudblood is scared, aren’t you?” 

“Oh sod off, Malfoy,” Petunia said boldly. “You’re full of sh—”

“Say hello to Buckbeak!” Hagrid yelled, revealing the oddest creature I had ever laid my eyes on. It looked like a cross between an eagle and a horse. 

“Hagrid, exactly what is that?” Ron questioned. 

“That, Ron, is a hippogriff,” Hagrid answered excitedly. “First thing you wanna know about hippogriffs is that they're very proud creatures. Very easily offended. You do not want to insult a hippogriff, because it may just be the last thing you ever do.”

I stared at the creature in awe. He seemed so elegant and beautiful. I was fascinated by him. “Now, who'd like to come and say hello?”

I immediately stepped forward while everyone—but Harry—stepped back. 

“Ah, Harry and Pepper! Come forward.”

Harry did not seem too pleased with this, but crept forward nonetheless. 

“Now, you have to let him make the first move. So step up and give him a nice bow. Then you wait and see if he bows back. If he does, you can go and touch him. If not—well, we'll get to that later. Just make your bow.”

Harry and I dipped our heads down in front of Buckbeak and stayed there. Soon, some aggressive squawking was heard. 

“Keep still,” Hagrid ordered. Buckbeak then dipped his own head forward in an unmistakable bow. 

“Well done, you two. Well done. I think you can go and pet him now.”

I walked towards Buckbeak and ran my hand across the side of his head. He seemed to enjoy this, and he chirped brightly. Harry stroked the other side of his head contentedly. 

“I think he may let you ride him now,” Hagrid observed. 

“What?” Harry exclaimed. 

“Come on.” He lifted Harry on Buckbeak, and then placed me behind Harry. 

“Don't pull out any of his feathers, because he won't thank you for that.” With that advice, he slapped Buckbeak and he took off. 

It was an exhilarating feeling, like flying a broomstick, but with more freedom. I unwrapped my arms from Harry’s waist and extended them into the air. 

“What are you doing?” He shouted. 

“Enjoying the moment!” I replied. “Try it!”

Harry hesitantly lifted his arms off of Buckbeak. He grinned and then whooped as we flew around the grounds. 

“That—was—amazing—” he gasped as we flew back down to the forest. 

“Tell me about it. Buckbeak’s something special, isn’t he?”

“That was wicked, Harry!” Ron yelled with glee. 

“How am I doing on my first day?” Hagrid asked us, fiddling with his shirt. 

“Brilliant, Professor,” Harry grinned. 

“You’re doing amazing,” I added. “This has been the greatest lesson.”

Hagrid flushed cherry red and beamed. But his happiness was short-lived. 

“Yes you're not dangerous at all, are you, you great ugly brute!” Malfoy shouted as he confidently strutted to Buckbeak, who took great offense to Malfoy’s words. He squawked, stood on his hind legs, and scratched Malfoy’s arm. Hagrid tried to calm Buckbeak while Malfoy lay on the ground, whimpering. 

“It's killed me! It's killed me!” he cried. 

“Calm down,” I scoffed. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Of course you’d say that. You haven’t been maimed.”

“Hagrid, he has to be taken to the hospital,” Hermione called from the crowd. Hagrid nodded

“I'm the teacher. I'll do it.” He scooped up Malfoy, who was still complaining, and started taking him back to the castle. 

“Class dismissed!”

“You’re going to regret this!” Malfoy threatened. “You and your bloody chicken!”

Harry and I remained where we were with Buckbeak. I stroked his head again. 

“Bet that felt good, didn’t it?”

∆ ∆ ∆

A few days later, I sat in the Great Hall with Harry, Ron, and Hermione for a study period. By this time, Malfoy had spread his “near-death experience” around the entire school, claiming that Buckbeak had charged at him for no reason. 

“Does it hurt terribly, Draco?” Pansy crooned. 

“It comes and it goes,” he replied, fidgeting with the cast on his arm. “I consider myself lucky though. Madam Pomfrey said another minute or two, and I could’ve lost my arm.”

“He’s really laying it on thick,” Ron grumbled—and he was right. He flinched at the slightest touch, and constantly complained of pain, when I knew for fact that he was  _ fine.  _

“Tell me about it. I saw his arm, and all he had was a deep scratch. Nothing that requires a cast. He just wants the attention.”

“At least Hagrid didn’t get fired,” Harry muttered. 

“Yeah but I heard Lucius is furious,” Hermione told us. “We haven’t heard the end of this.”

“Stupid spoiled brat,” I mumbled. 

The doors swung open, and Seamus Finnegan burst into the Great Hall, holding a newspaper. 

“He’s been sighted! He’s been sighted!”

“Who?” Ron asked stupidly. 

“Who else?” I remarked. 

“Dufftown? That’s not far from here,” said Hermione nervously. 

“You don’t think he’d come to Hogwarts, do you?” Petunia asked. “We have dementors at every entrance—”

“Dementors? He already got past them once. Who says he can’t do it again?” Seamus challenged. 

“That’s right,” Bem added. “He could be anywhere. It’s like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.”

“That’s a tad dramatic, don’t you think?” I questioned. “I don’t think Sirius Black is going to be able to get past the dementors twice.”

“We don’t know what he’s capable of, Pepper,” Harry replied. “He’s a mass murderer. Who knows what he’s got up his sleeve?”

I noticed Petunia leaving the Great Hall. I remembered that Malfoy and Adrian said about her fainting, and I followed her. 

“Petunia! Hey, Petunia!”

She turned around. “What is it?”

“You fainted on the train, right?”

She stiffened. “Yes—why?”

“Did you hear screaming? A woman’s scream?”

“Yes. I think it was my mother’s scream.”

“Y-your mother?”

“I’m adopted. My birth parents died in a car accident when I was a baby. I was in the car too. I’ve never heard my mother besides a video, and that’s why I think it’s her.”

“That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” 

“Did you faint?”

I nodded. “Yes and I heard my mother too. She was murdered this summer.”

“That’s right. I heard about that. I’m really sorry for your loss, Pepper.”

“Thank you. Harry heard screaming too, you know.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm. And now that you tell me you heard your mother, I think we fainted because we had more trauma than the other students.”

“That makes sense,” she acknowledged. “Especially since our mothers died in traumatic ways.”

“Finally. So we’re not crazy.”

“That’s a relief,” she sighed. “Anyway, I’ll see you later, Pepper. I’ve got an Arithmancy essay due.”

I walked back to the Great Hall, and told Harry, Hermione, and Ron everything. 

“So basically, it’s because you, Harry, and Petunia are members of the Dead Mother Club?”

“That’s a rather morbid way to put it, Ron, but yes.”

“Weird.”

After our free period, we headed to our very first DADA class with Professor Lupin. Fred and George had told me that he was a great teacher, and I was looking forward to his lessons. 

With the exception of Hermione, who said she had to go somewhere else first, we were all gathered in the classroom, staring at a shaking wardrobe. 

“Intriguing, isn’t it?” Lupin questioned. “Would anyone like to guess as to what’s inside?”

“That’s a boggart,” Dean answered. 

“Very good, Mr. Thomas. Now, can anyone tell me what a boggart looks like?”

“Nobody knows,” Hermione responded, coming out of nowhere. Ron and I exchanged confused glances. “Boggarts are shape shifters. They take the form of whatever a particular person fears the most. That’s what makes them so—”

“So terrifying,” Lupin finished. “Luckily, a very simple charm exists to repel it. Let’s practice it now, without wands please. After me.  _ Riddikulus! _ ”

_ “Riddikulus!” _

“Good. Now a little louder and clearer.  _ Riddikulus! _ ”

_ “Riddikulus!” _

“This class is ridiculous,” Malfoy muttered under his breath. 

“Very good. So much for the easy part. You see, the incantation alone is not enough. What really finishes a boggart is laughter. You need to force it to assume a shape you find truly amusing. Let me explain.” He searched the classroom. “Neville, would you join me, please?”

Neville slowly made his way to the front of the room. 

“Neville, what frightens you most of all?” Lupin asked the quivering boy. Neville muttered an incoherent answer. 

“Sorry?”

“Professor Snape,” he whispered. It made sense. Besides Harry, Petunia, and I, he picked on Neville the most. 

“Professor Snape. Yes, frightens all,” Lupin chuckled. “I believe you live with your grandmother, correct?”

“Y-Yes but I don't want that boggart to turn into her, either,” Neville stammered.

“It won’t. Neville, I want you to picture her clothes. Only her clothes, very clearly, in your mind.”

“She carries a red handbag—”

“We don't need to hear it. As long as you see it, we'll see it. Now, when I open that wardrobe, here's what I want you to imagine Professor Snape in your grandmother's clothes. Can you do that?”

Neville nodded. 

“Wonderful. Wand at the ready.” Lupin unlocked the wardrobe. “One, two, three.”

The door creaked open, and Snape slinked out of the wardrobe, slowly stalking towards Neville, who was paralyzed with fear. 

“Think, Neville, think,” Lupin encouraged. 

Neville raised a shaky hand and pointed it at Snape.  _ “Riddikulus!”  _ Everyone—except for the Slytherins—laughed out loud at the sight of Snape in a green dress, extravagant hat, and a red handbag.

“Wonderful, Neville, wonderful! Everyone form a line!” Lupin instructed. I got in line behind Parvati and in front of Harry. 

“I want everyone to picture the thing they fear the very most, and turn it into something funny,” Lupin continued once we were ready. “Ron, you’re up!” 

As Ron approached the boggart, it changed from a dress-clad Snape to a large, frightening spider. 

Ron paled, but pointed his wand at the insect.  _ “Riddikulus!”  _

The spider was suddenly wearing roller blades on each leg, causing it to slip every time it tried to walk. 

“Good! Dean, you’re up!” 

I watched as people faced banshees, snakes, hags, and even a bloody eyeball before it was my turn. 

I stood in front of the boggart, which Parvati had turned into an equally creepy jack-in-the-box. With a crack, it changed into seemingly nothing at first. But within a few seconds, green light flashed in the room, followed by my mother’s screams again. 

I stood completely paralyzed with fear. The green light continued to flash, and my mother appeared, pale and gaunt. 

“Mum?”

“It was your fault,” she shrieked. “If you weren’t a witch, I’d still be alive.” 

“Mum, I—”

“Pepper, you can do it,” Lupin interrupted. “Concentrate.” 

I snapped out of the haze I was in and raised my wand.  _ “Riddikulus!”  _ The green light turned into a tree, and I moved out of the way, trying very hard not to cry. 

Luckily, I didn’t have to try very hard. Harry was the last person to go. 

Everyone held their breaths as soon as he stepped up. I half-expected to see Voldemort, but wasn’t entirely surprised when he saw a dementor. 

“Here!” Lupin yelled before Harry could utter a single word. The boggart changed from the dementor to a moon. 

_ “Riddikulus!”  _ The moon turned into a balloon that zipped around the classroom for a moment before Lupin sent it back into the wardrobe. 

“That’s enough for today,” Lupin announced. The class groaned and he smiled faintly. “Collect your books from the back. Sorry. You can have too much of a good thing.”

Ron and Hermione were silent as Harry and I walked with them in a daze. 

“Are you okay?” Ron asked. 

“I think I need to lie down,” I mumbled. “I’ll see you at dinner.” 

I left before they could respond and rushed to my room, which was—thank God—empty. I threw myself onto my bed and buried my face in my pillow, trying to absorb what had just happened. 

“Pepper?” Hermione asked hesitantly. “Pepper?” 

“I’m here.” 

Hermione sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“It was my fault,” I whispered. 

“What do you—”

“It was my fault,” I repeated. “She died because of me. Because that man was targeting the parents of Muggle-born students.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Pepper. It—”

“If I were normal, this would have never happened. She’d still be alive.”

“Did you tell the man to kill your mother?” 

I gaped at her. “Of course not!”

“Then it wasn’t your fault. You wanted to protect her. The only person at fault is the psycho who killed her.”

“But if I were normal—”

“That’s the thing. You’re not normal, Pepper. That’s a gift. Not everyone has what we have.” 

I didn’t reply. 

“Your mother doesn’t think it’s your fault, either.   
“How would you know?” 

“She died trying to protect you, Pepper. She knew what she was doing. If she blames anyone, it’s the murderer.”

“Do you really think so?” 

“I’m Hermione Granger. I know so,” she joked. “Now come on. Let’s go to dinner.”

“But—”

“No buts. I refuse to let you wallow in that idea any longer. Now up.”

I groaned good-naturedly and followed Hermione to the Great Hall. I actually had a good time at dinner, talking about Hogsmeade with Ron. Even Harry was in a better mood. For a while, I was okay.

After all, it was only nighttime that haunted me. 


	22. Calamine

_ Your day is never gonna turn out exactly how you want _

Once October began, so did Quidditch practices. One evening, Wood called an emergency meeting to discuss our tactics for the season. 

Wood was in his final year at Hogwarts, and I wondered what we were going to do without him. He was more dedicated to the sport than any other player that I knew, and he had the best plays. I missed him already. 

“This is our last chance— _ my _ last chance—to win the Quidditch Cup,” he announced. “I’ll be leaving at the end of this year. I’ll never get another shot at it.” 

We stared as he took a deep, shaky breath. 

“Gryffindor hasn’t won for seven years now. We’ve had the worst luck in the world—injuries, cancellations, and all that. But we also have the best team in the entire school!” he shouted passionately, punching a fist into his other hand. 

“We’ve got three  _ superb _ Chasers,” he said, pointing to Katie, Angelina, and I. 

“Two  _ unbeatable _ Beaters!” 

“Stop it, Ollie, you’re embarrassing us,” Fred joked, pretending to blush. 

“And we’ve got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!” he continued, looking at all of us with unmistakable pride. 

“We think you’re very good too, Oliver,” George added. 

“The best,” I agreed. 

Wood smiled briefly before continuing. “The point is, the Quidditch Cup should’ve had our name on it these last two years. This year is our last chance to win.”

“This year is our year,” Angelina said confidently. 

“We’ll do it!” Katie exclaimed. The rest of the team burst into positive affirmations that seemed to boost Wood’s spirit. 

∆ ∆ ∆

“How do you do this?” Ron groaned, slamming his Divination textbook shut. “This assignment is impossible. Did any of you do it?”

Hermione nodded. “Took me ages too.”

“Hey Hermione—”

“No, you can’t copy it.”

“But—”

“Take mine,” I cut in, tossing Ron my parchment. “I don’t think it’s right though.”

“Do you think McGonagall will sign my Hogsmeade form?” Harry asked. 

“Maybe. Just ask her.”

“What if she says no?”

“What if she says yes?” I challenged. “Just ask.”

“Fine, I will.”

“I still can’t believe your stupid relatives wouldn’t sign it,” I remarked. “That’s just cruel.”

“It’s because I blew up my aunt,” he muttered. 

“Well she deserved it.”

“Pepper!” Hermione shook her head. “You really shouldn’t say that.”

“Well she did! Insulting Harry’s parents like that. It’s rude.” 

“I think I’ll drop Divination,” Ron said as he gave me back my work. “I hate it.”

“At least you get to sit with Harry and Hermione,” I countered. “I have to sit with Malfoy and listen to his whining all the time. I hate Trelawney for making those seats permanent.”

“Yeah that’s something to complain about,” Harry agreed. “Stupid git. What was he thinking, trying to scare everyone by saying there were dementors there? It’s not a joke.” 

“He’s just vile like that,” Hermione added. “It’s Malfoy. When has he ever been nice?” 

“He’ll be nice when hell freezes over,” Ron continued. “I’m tired of him insulting my family.” 

“I’m tired of him in general. Hopefully he finds someone else to bother,” I quipped. 

“He does seem pretty keen on bothering you, doesn’t he?” 

“I know. I just wish he’d give it a rest.” 

“We better get going. Class starts soon,” Hermione observed. We left the common room and went to Charms, where I also had the grand misfortune of sitting next to Malfoy. 

“Peppermint,” he acknowledged. 

“Malfoy,” I murmured. I had given up in telling him not to call me that wretched name. He clearly didn’t care what I thought. 

“Excited for the Hogsmeade weekend?”

“Yup.” 

“You’ve never been there right?” 

“Nope.” 

“They have loads to do. Plenty of shops and places to eat. They even have a store where you can get those Peppermint Toads of yours.” 

“Really?” I questioned with genuine curiosity. 

“Mm-hmm. Honeydukes has loads of sweets. My mother used to take me a lot when I was younger.” I noticed that he seemed to be rather fond of this particular memory. He was happier than I had ever seen him. 

No longer annoyed, I asked, “What else do they have?” 

“Well they have a joke shop—I suspect you’ll like that one, considering how much you hang out with those twins—Gladrags Wizardwear, a post office, a quill shop, the Three Broomsticks—”

“The Three Broomsticks?” 

“It’s a pub with different drinks like firewhiskey, mead, gillywater, and butterbeer,” he explained, barely paying attention to Flitwick’s lecture. “If you go, you have to get butterbeer.”

“What’s that?” 

“It’s a drink. It tastes like butterscotch, almost.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “I don’t even like butterscotch.”

“But it’s good. You have to get it. And before you ask, no, they don’t have any peppermint drinks.” 

I let out a laugh. “Well there goes the whole experience.” 

“Are you not going to go now?” 

“Well—” 

“Miss Atkinson and Mr. Malfoy,” Flitwick called out. Everyone turned to face us, and I felt my face growing warmer by the minute. “I’d appreciate it if you actually paid attention to my lesson. You’ll find it to be quite informative.” 

“We were listening, sir,” Malfoy said quickly. “Atkinson was only asking me a question about the lesson.” 

“Oh really? What did she ask?” Flitwick asked, clearly not believing Malfoy. 

“She wanted to know the difference between the Full Body-Bind Curse and petrification.” 

“Which is...?” 

“Petrification is highly advanced Dark Magic that cannot be reversed by a simple counter-curse. The Full Body-Bind Curse can be reversed using a variety of different curses,” he explained. I nodded, confirming Malfoy’s lie. 

“Very well then. My apologies.” He turned around and continued the lecture, which I started paying attention to. I couldn’t believe that I had been ignoring the lesson because I had been talking with  _ Malfoy _ . 

“Thanks,” I whispered. 

“Don’t mention it. Can’t go getting in trouble with my father now can I?” 

“I suppose not. Who’d buy you your fancy stuff?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

After hearing about what was in the village, I could hardly wait for the trip. The only other person who was arguably more excited than I was was Ron, who would not stop talking about all the sweets he was going to buy. I even promised to meet Fred and George at Zonko’s to buy some materials for our newest pranks. 

But the day quickly soured when McGonagall refused to sign Harry’s permission slip. 

“I’ll stay with you. I don’t mind,” I lied. 

“No you guys go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

“I can’t believe McGonagall didn’t sign his paper,” I fumed once we were in the privacy of our carriage. “She knew his stupid aunt and uncle wouldn’t sign it.”

“I’m sure she wanted to,” Hermione remarked. “She probably feels bad.”

“Yeah, well feeling bad isn’t going to bring Harry here, is it?” Ron grumbled.

“We can bring him some stuff back,” Hermione consoled. “I’m sure he’d like it. 

By the time we reached the village, the initial shock of Harry’s banishment wore off. We decided to go to Honeydukes first, and once we entered the shop, I understood Malfoy’s fondness for the place. It was brightly decorated, sweets covering every empty space. They had lollipops, bubblegum, jelly beans, chocolate, ice cream, and most importantly, Peppermint Toads. 

“Do you think Harry would like this?” I asked, holding up a handful of Acid Pops. 

Ron shook his head furiously. “No way. Fred gave me one when I was seven, and it burnt a hole right through my tongue.”

“Definitely not then,” I said, putting the sweets away. “What about these?” 

“He would love sugar quills! Get some!” 

Ron and I left Honeydukes weighed down by our bags. Compared to us, Hermione bought next to nothing—only four Chocolate Frogs and a Cauldron Cake. However, she did make up for it at the bookstore, where she bought nearly every book in the store. 

“I need to go to the post office,” Hermione piped up as we continued walking. 

“Me too,” Ron added. “I’ve got to reply to Mum’s letter before she sends another Howler.

“I have to go meet Fred and George,” I said, checking my watch. “You two go to the post office, and I’ll meet up with you later, okay?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Mm-hmm. Also, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, so if you want to eat, that’s fine.”

“We’ll wait for you,” Hermione promised, although Ron didn’t seem too pleased about this. 

“It’s okay, really. Ron looks hungry.” 

“I’m not—”

“Don’t deny it, I know you. You guys can eat. I’ll just eat with Fred and George.”

“Are you sure?” 

I nodded. “Have fun you two!” Hermione flushed and Ron rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. I tried not to laugh as I walked towards Zonko’s.

Zonko’s was even better than Honeydukes. Every shelf was filled to the brim with every prank product imaginable. Students crowded every inch of the store, and I started to worry that I wouldn’t be able to find Fred and George when I heard someone calling my name. 

“Pepper! By the soaps!” 

I pushed my way through the crowds until I arrived at a small section in the back of the store. A wall was lined with various, normal-looking soaps.

“There you are! We thought we lost you!” Fred joked. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” I remarked. “Now, why are we by the soaps?”

“They’re not just  _ soaps, _ Paprika,” George drawled. “These are Spawn Soaps.”

“Spawn soaps?” 

“Ah,” Fred sighed, dramatically placing his hand on his chest. “So uncultured.” 

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. “What’s a Spawn Soap?” 

“It spawns an animal of your choosing,” George explained. He snatched a bar of green soap off the shelf and tossed it to me. “That right there is Frog Spawn Soap. So—”

“It spawns frogs when someone uses it, doesn’t it?” 

“There you go. And it only took you  _ ages. _ ”

“Who should we use it on?” I asked eagerly. “Do you have any more problems with people?”

“You happen to be in luck, Pepkins,” Fred remarked. “We’re not too pleased with Roger Davies at the moment. He called Angelina Johnson a rather unkind name.” 

“What a git,” I scowled. 

“It would be most unfortunate if this happened to end up in his shower, wouldn’t it?” 

“It would be. But how would we get into said shower? Do you two happen to have the password to the Ravenclaw common room?”

“That’s the thing,” George began. “They don’t have a password. They use riddles.”

“Riddles? Are you kidding me?”

“Nope.” 

“Still, do you really think I’m smart enough for that? I’m in Gryffindor for a reason.” 

“Minor details, Pep, minor details,” Fred dismissed as he scanned the soaps. “Now, what kind should we get?” 

“I think one of every kind should suffice,” I replied, grabbing a neon yellow soap and turning it over in my hands. “We need to stock up.”

“You’re right. We should buy all of our stuff and hide it somewhere. Not our rooms, though.” 

“Mine?” 

“No, we need somewhere where we can plan our pranks in peace.”

“I know!” I exclaimed loudly. “We can use Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.” 

“This is why you’re our favorite third year,” George voiced, ruffling my hair. “Let’s go buy some other materials.” 

I could hardly walk due to the heaviness of my bags. I dragged them across Hogsmeade as Fred, George, and I made our way to the quaint little pub that was the Three Broomsticks. 

It had a homey, comforting feeling to it. It was rather dusty, and the air smelled of smoke, but I immediately loved it. 

“Pepper! George! Fred!” Ron waved to me from across the pub. “Come sit with us!” 

We sat down at their table in the back of the pub, and a curvy barmaid came over. I noticed Ron eyeing her with interest and bit back a giggle. 

“We’ll have five butterbeers, please,” Fred ordered. “You’ve never tried it, right?” 

Hermione and I shook our heads. 

“It’s amazing!” Ron exclaimed. 

“So I’ve heard.”

The barmaid, who I learned was called Madam Rosmerta, brought back our drinks within five minutes. I slid my cup closer to me, and took an apprehensive sip. 

It was better than anything else I had ever tasted. The whipped cream and the sweet butterscotch merged together to create an inexplicably wonderful drink. I didn’t even like butterscotch, but I found myself enjoying each sip more and more. 

“This is incredible,” I sighed. “He was right.” 

“I know,” Ron agreed, wiping whipped cream off his upper lip. 

“I wish Harry could be here,” I sulked. 

“At least we’re bringing him some sweets,” Hermione offered. 

“I wish we could bring him Hogsmeade. He’d love it here.” 

Once we returned to the castle, we poured out everything we bought for Harry in the common room. 

“How was it? What’s it like? Where did you go?”

“Where didn’t we go?” Ron asked rhetorically. “Pepper and I bought loads at Honeydukes—most of it for you—and we went to the bookstore, and the post office, and we even got butterbeer! And we didn’t get to go to the Shrieking Shack, but it’s—” 

“The most haunted building in Britain, I know.” 

“We wanted to bring you back some butterbeer,” I added. “But we weren’t able to.”

“What’s that?” Harry pointed to my Zonko’s bags. 

“Oh this is from Zonko’s Joke Shop. Fred, George, and I bought some stuff for more pranks. Want to see?” 

After I showed Harry the products I bought—he liked the soap the best—we went to dinner, which happened to be the great Halloween feast. We enjoyed the deliciously prepared meal and the lively entertainment provided by the ghosts. 

We walked back to our common room, ready to go to sleep after a long, eventful day. But when we arrived at the portrait, we found a large crowd of students huddled around the entrance. 

“What’s going on?” I inquired. 

“Neville probably forgot the password again,” Ron muttered.

“Hey!” Neville exclaimed angrily.

“Oh hey Neville,” Ron said nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just bluntly insulted him. 

“Let me through!” Percy’s nasally voice boomed. “I’m Head Boy, let me through!” He stared at the portrait. “Nobody is to enter until it’s been searched.”

“The Fat Lady’s gone!” Ginny cried as she pointed to the empty portrait. 

“Serves her right,” Ron joked. “She’s a terrible singer.” 

“It’s not funny, Ron,” Hermione scolded. 

“Make way!” Dumbledore rushed to the portrait with Filch in tow. 

“Mr. Filch? Round up the ghosts. Tell them to search every painting in the castle to find the Fat Lady,” he ordered. 

“There's no need for ghosts, professor. The Fat Lady's there.” He pointed to a painting not far from where we were. Everybody rushed over. 

“Dear lady, who did this to you?” Dumbledore asked the shaking woman. 

The Fat Lady let out a terrible wail. “Eyes like the devil, he's got, and a soul as dark as his name. It's him, headmaster, the one they all talk about. He's here, somewhere in the castle!”

No, she couldn’t possibly mean—

“Sirius Black!”

Nobody moved. 

“Secure the castle, Mr. Filch. The rest of you, to the Great Hall.” Dumbledore glanced pointedly at Harry before stalking off. 

We went to the Great Hall, conversing about what had just happened. Around ten minutes later, the Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws all arrived. They headed to their Gryffindor acquaintances to figure out what happened. 

“You'll all be sleeping here tonight,” McGonagall announced. “Please grab a sleeping bag and go to sleep.”

As I went to grab a sleeping bag, I heard Malfoy ranting to Crabbe and Goyle. “This is ridiculous! Sleeping on the floor! Just wait until my father hears about this!”

I walked in front of him to get my sleeping bag, and he walked away from Crabbe and Goyle. 

“Peppermint, what’s going on? Do you know what happened?”

“The Fat Lady went missing.”

He scowled. “Are you  _ kidding  _ me? We have to sleep on the floor because some random painting has been compromised?”

“No,” I huffed. “We have to sleep on the floor because she was attacked by Sirius Black!”

He stared at me. “Well you could’ve just said that.”

“Have fun sleeping on the floor,” I remarked haughtily before returning to my spot. I laid my sleeping bag in between Harry and Hermione, and tried to go to bed. 

I was just about to drift off when I heard two voices speaking directly above my head. I opened my eyes, and was met by Harry’s bright green ones. He slowly put a finger to his lips, and I nodded slightly. 

“No sign of Black, anywhere in the castle,” Snape reported. 

Dumbledore sighed. “I didn't really expect him to linger.”

“Remarkable feat, don't you think? To enter Hogwarts on one's own, completely undetected?” Snape asked suspiciously. 

“Quite remarkable, yes.”

“Any theories on how he managed it?”

“Many. Each as unlikely as the next.”

Snape clicked his tongue. “You may recall—prior to the start of term I expressed concerns—about your appointment of Professor—”

“Not a single professor inside this castle would help Sirius Black enter it,” Dumbledore interrupted. “I'm quite convinced the castle is safe—and I'm more than willing to send the students back to their houses.”

“What about Potter?”

I raised my eyebrows at Harry, and he gave a small shrug in return. 

“Should he be warned?”

“Perhaps. But for now, let him sleep.”

“And what about—”

“Let’s not worry about that, Severus. Let the children sleep. For in dreams, we enter a world that's entirely our own. Let them swim in the deepest ocean or glide over the highest cloud.”

I rolled my eyes at Dumbledore’s prose, and Harry smirked. I wanted nothing more than to talk to him about what we had just heard, but I feared getting caught. I’d have to wait until morning. 

∆ ∆ ∆

“Alright, so how are we going to do this?”

The next morning, we were all given the clear to return to our rooms. Harry and I spoke briefly about what we had heard, but we weren’t able to draw any conclusions. We already knew that Sirius Black wanted to hurt Harry, but we were hoping that Snape would give us a reason  _ why.  _

I was now with Fred and George in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom during lunch. Once she found out about our stash, she threatened to tell Snape about it until we managed to strike a deal with her. If we brought her juicy pieces of gossip every time that we came, she’d keep quiet. 

George held up the dark green bar of soap. “You and I will sneak into the Ravenclaw common room while Freddie keeps watch. I’ll slip into his room and put the soap in his stuff. You will stay outside the door and keep watch. Once everything’s ready, we’ll run faster than Ron when it’s time for dinner. Got it?”

“Got it. Let’s go.”

The three of us walked as inconspicuous as we could manage. Once we reached the Ravenclaw common room, George and I approached the portrait. 

_ “What type of tree can you hold in your hand?” _

“Aw shit,” George muttered. “I don’t know. Pepper?”

“Don’t look at me,” I shrugged. “I told you I’m dumb.”

Fred groaned. “You idiots. It’s a palm.”

At those words, the portrait door swung open. George and I stood there, both amazed at how quickly Fred had answered the riddle, and at how simple the answer was. Knowing the Ravenclaws, I was expecting some sort of philosophical question with multiple meanings. 

“Go!” Fred urged. George and I scrambled inside, and found the common room completely empty. 

The Ravenclaw common room was unexpectedly beautiful. There were majestic blue curtains made out of fine velvet, big soft chairs perfect for reading, and an enormous bookshelf with at least 500 different books. 

“This sure is nice, isn’t it, Peppy?”

“It is. But I like ours better. It’s more—”

“Homey.”

“Exactly. Now hurry up before he comes back.”

We climbed up the stairs to the fifth year boys’ dormitory, and George opened the door. I stood outside, picking at my fingernails while he walked in, expecting nobody to come by. 

“Who are you?” I looked up from my hands and saw a small boy—a first year, perhaps—standing directly in front of me. 

“Pepper. Who are you?”

“You’re not a Ravenclaw,” he accused, ignoring my question. 

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you here? You have two minutes before I go get Flitwick.”

“Jesus Christ, calm down,” I muttered. “I’m—uh, waiting.”

“For what?”

“The bathroom.”

He frowned. “I’m pretty sure you Gryffindors have your own bathrooms—”

“We do, but I’m waiting for my...boyfriend,” I blurted. 

“Your boyfriend? But Harry’s a Gryffindor.”

I gagged. “I am  _ not  _ dating Harry Potter!”

“You’re not? Everyone thinks you are.”

“Gross! I’m not dating him!”

“Weasley then?”

“No.”

“Oh, I know.” He snapped his fingers together. “Malfoy, right?”

I burst out laughing. “Draco Malfoy? Me and  _ Draco Malfoy?  _ Where on earth did you hear that?”

“It’s been floating around. Most people think you’re with Harry or Ron. But others are firm believers in you and Malfoy.”

“We are not dating! I would never!”

“Really?” he asked with genuine shock. “Never?”

“Never!”

“I would’ve thought you would at least once. You two scream tension.”

“We do not!” I shouted defensively, crossing my arms. 

“Yeah, you do. Everyone—well, people who don’t believe in you and Harry—think that Malfoy pays an awful lot of attention to you.”

“Because he likes to bother me, er—”

“Alex.”

“Alex. He just likes to mess with me.”

“If you say so. But I could’ve sworn that I had heard you went on a date.”

“You  _ what? _ ” I sputtered. 

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I overheard it from Roger Davies just yesterday. He said that apparently he heard from Cedric Diggory who heard from Miles Bletchley that Malfoy’s telling everyone you two went out together. He said that he had to let you down lightly.”

I balled my hands into tight, angry fists. “I am going to  _ kill _ him.”

“Lover’s quarrel?” Alex questioned dryly. 

“Listen here,  _ Alex _ ,” I said seriously. “I am not dating Draco Malfoy. I have never dated Draco Malfoy, and I will never date Draco Malfoy. Is that clear?”

He rolled his eyes and nodded. “Sure. So who’s your boyfriend?”

“It’s a secret,” I replied. “We’re keeping it on the down low.”

“Whatever,” he muttered. “I don’t really give a shit what you’re doing. Goodbye, Pepper.” With that, he stalked off, exciting the common room. Once the portrait closed, George left the bathroom. 

“What the hell?”

I sighed. “Let me explain.”

“That’s messed up,” Fred said once I explained the whole thing to him and George. 

“Just wait until I get my hands on him,” I seethed, “I’ll—”

“No need to wait,” George interrupted. “He’s right there.” He pointed to a staircase, where Malfoy sat entwined with Pansy Parkinson. Something about them together angered me further, and I marched over there. 

“Malfoy!”

“Atkinson, what—”

“What the  _ hell _ is wrong with you?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Why the bloody hell are you telling people that we went out on a  _ date? _ ”

“Oh that,” he dismissed me with a wave of his hand. “I’m just telling the truth.”

“You know that’s not true! We got ice cream, and that’s it. And  _ you _ invited me, so stop telling people that you had to let me down easily!” 

“You invited her?” Pansy shrieked, dropping his arm. “Why would you do that, Drakey?”

“Yeah  _ Drakey _ , why would you do that?”

He scowled and stood up, stalking towards me. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” 

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Is it really?” 

“It is,” he breathed, leaning towards me. “I only told people because I knew it would bother you. Now I get to watch you try to tell people you  _ don’t  _ have it bad for me.” The corner of his mouth twitched upwards into a smug smirk. 

“You are ridiculous,” I spat, taking a few steps back. “How dare you tell people that? Just because you think it’s funny?” 

His eyes stare straight into mine, making his unwavering attitude even more arrogant. “Something like that.” 

“You’re vile, trying to mess with someone like that!” I whipped my wand out and pointed it at his neck. “Give me one good reason not to jinx you right now.” 

“Stop!” Pansy cried shrilly. “You’ll ruin his beautiful face!” 

“Beautiful?” I scoffed. “Not on the inside.” 

“But you agree that I’m stunning on the outside, Peppermint?” 

His cocky demeanor made me even angrier. “No, I—”

“If you hurt him, I’ll get Snape!” Pansy threatened. 

“As if I’m afraid of Snape,” I snorted. “Now should I give you boils or spots? Or both?” 

“You do not want to do that,” Snape’s voice droned. “Lower your wand, Miss Atkinson.” 

I kept my wand pointed at Malfoy’s neck. 

“If you lower it now, I won’t give you detention.” 

Begrudgingly, I lowered my wand. 

“Now walk away before I change my mind.”

Giving Malfoy the nastiest glare I could muster, I spun on my heel and stormed back to the Great Hall. 

“Why did you call her Peppermint?” I heard Pansy ask Malfoy in a whiny voice. “Why don’t you have a special nickname for me, Drakey?”

“I  _ told _ you not to call me that.” 

I couldn’t help but snicker. 

∆ ∆ ∆ 

Our last practice before the match quickly turned sour once we found out a rather unfortunate tidbit of news.

“We’re not playing Slytherin!” he huffed furiously. He clenched his hands into fists as he continued, “Flint’s just been to see me. We’re playing Hufflepuff instead.”

“Why?” we asked curiously. 

“Flint’s excuse is that their Seeker’s arm’s still injured.” Wood kicked at the floor angrily. “But it’s obvious why they’re doing it. They don’t want to play in this weather.” 

“Rubbish!” I yelled. “Malfoy’s fine and everybody knows it!” 

“He’s faking it!” Harry blurted, his face contorted with rage. 

“I know that. But we can’t prove it, can we?” asked Wood bitterly. “And we’ve been practicing all those moves assuming that we’re playing Slytherin, and instead it’s Hufflepuff. Their style’s different, and they’ve got a new Seeker and Captain, that Cedric Diggory—”

Angelina and Katie burst into giggles. 

“What?” Wood frowned at the sound of joy. 

“He’s that tall, good-looking one,” Angelina sighed. 

“Strong and silent,” Katie added, a dreamy look settling on her face. 

I raised my eyebrows, curious as to what this Cedric Diggory looked like. I had only heard about him, but I had never seen him. 

“He’s only silent because he’s too thick to string two words together,” Fred huffed, glancing at Angelina. “I don’t know why you’re worried, Oliver. Hufflepuff is a pushover. Last time, Harry caught the Snitch within 5 minutes, remember?” 

“We were playing in completely different conditions!” Wood shouted passionately. “Diggory’s a  _ very  _ strong Seeker. We mustn’t relax! We must win!” 

“Oliver, calm down! We’re talking Hufflepuff seriously,” George cut in. We all nodded in agreement. “Very seriously.” 


	23. Merlot

_ Do you like walking in the rain?  _

The prank against Roger Davies worked out ten times better than I could have imagined. According to Fred and George, who heard from some other Ravenclaws in their year, Roger screamed so loudly that someone went to go get Flitwick. Even better, he hadn’t removed every frog, and one of them hopped out from his robes during Potions, earning him a week’s worth of detention for ‘disrupting the class’.

Due to the great success of our prank, we planned to leave a special surprise in Malfoy’s shower as revenge for his loose lips. I had to constantly tell people that no, I wasn’t dating Malfoy, I didn’t like him, and I would never like him. 

Of course, Malfoy basked in my frustration. If anyone asked him about the rumor he started, he would launch into long rants of how I was hopelessly in love with him, and I’d have to explain that I wasn’t it. 

It was a very tiring few weeks. 

I sat next to Harry and Ron in DADA, waiting for Professor Lupin. He was uncharacteristically late, and I wondered if there was something wrong with him. 

The doors to the classroom swung open, and Snape waltzed in, shutting the blinds. 

“Turn to page 394,” he droned once he reached the front of the room. 

“Excuse me, sir,” Harry began. Snape raised an eyebrow, and I already knew that this wasn’t going to end well. “Where’s Professor Lupin?”

“That’s none of your concern, is it, Potter? Suffice it to say your professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the time,” he replied ambiguously. “Turn to page 394.”

Unable to restrain myself, I shouted, “Werewolves?” 

“But sir!” Hermione exclaimed, appearing out of nowhere. “We just learned about red-caps and hinkypunks. We’re not meant to start nocturnal beasts for weeks.” 

“Quiet!” Snape hissed. 

“When did she come in?” Ron asked. “Did you see her come in?”

“No—”

“Now, which one of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a werewolf?” he questioned. Hermione raised her hand. “No one? How disappointing.”

“Please, sir,” Hermione begged. “An Animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal. A werewolf has no choice. With each full moon, when he transforms, he no longer remembers who he is. He’d kill his best friend if he crossed his path.”

Malfoy let out a howl, earning loud giggles from Pansy Parkinson. 

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape drawled. He then turned to Hermione. “That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Are you incapable of restraining yourself, or do you take pride in being such an insufferable know-it-all?” 

Hermione turned dark red and looked down, her eyes shiny with tears. 

“You asked us a question and she knew the answer! Why ask if you don’t want to be told?” Ron questioned boldly. 

As soon as the words left his mouth, I knew he had gone too far. Snape walked over to his desk. 

“Detention, Weasley,” he thundered. “And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you’ll be very sorry.” 

Everyone remained silent for the rest of the class. Snape forced us to take notes on his lecture  _ and _ the text all while he insulted Professor Lupin’s lessons. By the time class was over, I thought my hand was going to fall off. 

“As an antidote to your ignorance, you will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning.” 

“Sir, it’s Quidditch tomorrow,” Harry blurted stupidly. 

“Then I suggest you take extra care, Potter. Loss of limb will not excuse you. Class dismissed. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention.” 

“That was absolutely ridiculous,” I fumed to Harry and Hermione once we were well out of earshot. “What is wrong with him?”

“He’s never been like this with any of our other DADA teachers before,” Harry remarked. “Why does he hate Lupin so much? Do you think he heard about Neville’s boggart?”

“I don’t know,” Hermione articulated. “But I hope Professor Lupin comes back soon.” 

“I can’t believe that git!” Ron grumbled once he caught up with us. “Do you know what he’s making me do? Clean the bedpans in the Hospital Wing,  _ without magic! _ Can you believe that? I swear to Merlin…” 

I blanked out for the rest of Ron’s rant against Snape. I wondered why Snape chose to teach us werewolves. Out of all the creatures possible, he chose werewolves. I thought that for someone who wanted that job so badly, he would have prepared something cooler. 

“I refuse to do the essay,” I announced. “He can make me scrub whatever he wants, but I refuse to do the essay.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Pepper,” Hermione warned. “He could get really upset.”

“I’m not doing it either,” Harry declared. “He can’t be rude to Lupin and force us to do work that’s not even relevant to our current curriculum.” 

“We’re taking a stand!” Ron shouted. “Come on, Hermione. He did insult you, after all.”

Hermione shook her head vehemently. “No. He’ll be expecting it from me. Besides, I don’t want to get into any more trouble.” 

No matter how much we coaxed Hermione, she refused to join our rebellion. We managed to get every other Gryffindor—with the exception of Neville, who was too afraid to disobey orders—to join our worthy cause. 

“We’ll tell Lupin once he’s back,” I stated. “I’m positive he won’t make us do it.”

“And if he does?” Hermione questioned. 

“That’s a problem for later,” Ron replied simply. “For now, we rebel against tyranny.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes, pulled out her notes, and started writing her essay. 

∆ ∆ ∆

Everyone was a nervous wreck the morning of the match. First of all, it was the worst possible weather. It was storming outside, with booming thunder, flashes of lightning, and howling winds. Secondly, Wood was still nervous about playing Hufflepuff. According to Wood, Cedric Diggory was significantly bigger than Harry. Normally, his build would be a disadvantage, but in today’s harsh winds, he’d be less likely to be thrown around. 

I assured everybody that we would be fine. We had training three times a week, rain or shine. 

“I bet Hufflepuff hasn’t got as much training,” I declared during breakfast. “And Diggory may be bigger, but he’s no Harry Potter.” 

Harry flashed me a grateful, but weak smile. It seemed like nothing would quell his—other Oliver’s—worries. 

After a quick breakfast of porridge and toast, we changed into our uniforms and waited for Wood’s traditional pep talk. But after a few minutes of stammering, he shook his head and motioned for us to enter the pitch. 

It was pouring outside. The wind nearly pushed me away, and rain splattered all over Harry’s glasses. I wondered how we’d be able to see each other, let alone the Quaffle, Bludgers, or Snitch. 

Hufflepuff approached from the opposite end of the pitch with an aura of confidence. As we walked to the center of the field, the Captains shook hands. It was then that I realized that Angelina and Katie had been right. Cedric Diggory was unnervingly handsome. 

“Wow,” I mumbled under my breath. 

“I know right?” Angelina giggled. “Just wait until you see him smile.”

I didn’t have to wait long, because soon as he and Wood shook hands, he flashed him a beautiful, wide grin. 

“Mount your brooms!” Madam Hooch’s instructions interrupted my ogling. At the sound of the whistle, she threw the Quaffle in the air, and the game began. 

Katie grabbed the Quaffle, and we were off. Within minutes, all of us were soaking wet and freezing. The rain was incredibly thick, and I wondered how Harry would see the Snitch if I could barely see ten feet in front of me. 

The game dragged on for ages, with no team making any progress. After what seemed like ages, Harry and Cedric Diggory sped towards the Snitch. 

“Thank God!” Angelina called as she tossed me the Quaffle. I pushed past the burly Hufflepuff Chasers and managed to score a goal. I wasn’t able to hear Lee’s muffled commentary. 

Soon, the entire pitch went silent. I turned, and saw that even the players were still. I followed their gazes and froze. 

Dementors. 

Loads and loads of dementors. 

They flew closer and closer to Harry. A few passed the rest of us, and I heard the faint screams of a woman for the brief moments that they were near. 

We all stared as Harry was swarmed by the mass of hooded creatures. Suddenly, much to everyone’s horror, he fell off his broomstick and plunged downwards. His broomstick was thrown into the Whomping Willow and destroyed.

I let out a scream as I watched Harry fall. 

_ “Arresto momentum!”  _

Harry’s unconscious body slowed down, and fell to the ground delicately. I quickly dismounted my broom and rushed to his side with Hermione and Ron.

We went with him to the Hospital Wing, trembling with worry. Most of the Gryffindor team was also there, and we crowded around his bed, waiting for him to stir. 

“He looks a bit peaky, doesn’t he?” Ron asked worriedly. 

"Peaky? What do you expect him to look like? He fell fifty feet," Fred exclaimed. 

"Yeah, c'mon, Ron. We'll walk you off the Astronomy Tower and see how you come out looking," George continued.

"Probably a right sight better than he normally does," Harry said, sitting up.

"Harry! How're you feeling?" I asked. 

"Brilliant." He replied with a grimace. 

"Gave us a right good scare, mate," Fred informed him. 

"What happened?" he asked. 

"You fell off your broom," I said stupidly. 

"Really?” He rolled his eyes. “I meant the match. Who won?"

We all looked at each other uncomfortably.

"No one blames you, Harry,” Hermione began. “The dementors aren't meant to come on the grounds. Dumbledore was furious. After he saved you, he sent them straight off."

Ron cleared his throat awkwardly. "There's something else you should know, Harry. Your Nimbus, when it blew away, it sort of landed in the Whomping Willow. And well..."

Ron revealed Harry's demolished broomstick. Harry’s jaw dropped as he examined the irreparable damage. 

Madam Pomfrey saw us all gathered around Harry’s bed and practically shrieked "He needs to rest!" She threw us out of the Hospital Wing, and slammed the door shut. 

“Well she’s fun,” Fred remarked.

“I’m going to bed,” I sighed. “I’m exhausted.” 

I trudged towards the common room, took a nice, long hot shower, and climbed into bed. I fell asleep almost immediately, but was visited by the same wretched dream. 

_ “No, please!” she cried. “Pepper, I’m sorry! Pep—” _

I woke up screaming again. Luckily, nobody was in the room to notice my terror. Shaking, I tried to calm myself down. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, but I knew the stupid dream would be waiting for me. 

Then, I remembered what Molly gave me that one night at the Leaky Cauldron. I wondered if Madam Pomfrey had a few of those potions in stock. I put some shoes on, and rushed to the Hospital Wing. 

“No visitors,” she barked once she saw me.

“I’m not here for him,” I said quickly. “I was wondering if you had any Dreamless Sleep Potions.” 

Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

“I’ve been having nightmares of my mother’s… murder,” I explained. “I just really want to sleep.”

She gave me a sad look. “Wait right here.” She left the room, and I crossed my arms together, rocking myself back and forth while I waited for her—and the potion’s—return. 

She came back moments later with a bottle of the miracle liquid. “Here you go. I am so terribly sorry, dear.” 

I sighed. “Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. Really. I just have a question.”

“Anything.”

“Well, I was told that it wouldn’t be a good idea to take this every night. I was just wondering why that is.”

“Do you dream every night?”

I nodded slowly. “Yes. Is the potion addictive or something?”

“No, it’s not. This particular brew isn’t very strong compared to all the other ones. But if you use this every night, it won’t have the same effect after a while. You’ll need the stronger ones, which  _ are _ addictive.”

“Okay.” I took the potion from her with a trembling hand. “Thank you.” 

I walked back to my dormitory and opened the bottle, thinking what Madam Pomfrey said. I did not want to end up with an addiction, but I wondered how many nightmares it would take to send me into the spiral. 

I promised myself then that it would never happen. Not if I could help it. 

∆ ∆ ∆

After a whopping twelve hours of sleep, I woke up feeling thoroughly rested, which turned out to be perfect timing because I was summoned by Fred and George to execute our revenge against Malfoy. 

This time, we chose to carry our attack out during dinner, since there would be less of a chance that someone would catch us. 

We snuck out of the Great Hall as inconspicuous as we could manage. Once we were out of everyone’s sight, we rushed to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, where her loud sobs echoed. 

“Who’s there?” she sniffed, poking her head out of her favorite stall. 

“Pepper, Fred, and George,” I replied, opening the stall with our prank products. 

“Oh, the Rouge Rebels!” 

“The what?” Fred asked, walking over to Myrtle. 

“The Rouge Rebels! I’ve spent weeks trying to come up with a nickname for you three and I’ve finally got it!” she blabbered. “Rebels because you prank and break the rules, and red because you—” she pointed to Fred and George, “—are redheads. And  _ peppers _ are usually red. So—”

“The Rouge Rebels,” I repeated. 

“I think the French gives it a nice touch, no?” 

“Very nice Myrtle,” George remarked. 

“What’s my piece of gossip this time?” she questioned. “And who are you pranking?” 

“Well this is a revenge prank,” Fred explained. “You see, that blonde git Malfoy told everyone that he and Pepper are dating—”

“Oooooo!” Myrtle giggled. “Draco Malfoy’s cute! Way to go, Pepper! If I were alive, I’d—” 

“I’m not dating him,” I cut in. “I’d never date him. He told everyone that we went out and that he had to let me down gently.”

“Oh, okay. So what are you going to do to him?” 

“We’re going to put Rat Spawn Soap in his shower,” I answered, holding up a white bar of soap. 

“Interesting. Now back to my piece of gossip.”

“That was the gossip!” George exclaimed. 

She shook her head. “No, that’s who you’re pranking.” 

I grumbled. “ _ Fine _ . Rumor has it that Graham Montague’s girlfriend cheated on him with Roger Davies.” 

“No way!” 

“Twice,” Fred added. 

Myrtle let out a giggle. “Alright. I’ll see you later, Rouge Red!” 

“We’re going to need more drama,” Fred commented. “She’s tough to please.” 

After making sure that the coast was clear, we walked down to the dungeons, conversing about random things to seem less suspicious. Once we reached the common room, we gave the portrait the password—which I knew thanks to Malfoy’s loud conversation with Crabbe—and entered the room. 

This time, we decided that I’d be the one to put the soap in his belongings. Fred kept watch outside of the dormitory door, and George waited by the entrance. 

I slipped inside and started searching for Malfoy’s bed. Once I found it, I started rummaging through his trunk for his toiletry bag. I sifted through his clothes carefully, trying to leave everything the way it was. Every single thing was designer, from his shirts to his  _ socks _ . Finally, I found his equally expensive toiletry bag. 

I zipped it open and looked for his soap. Luckily, he already used a bar of plain white soap, which meant that I didn’t need to change its color. I put both bars of soap side by side, and examined them. Malfoy’s soap was slightly smaller than the bewitched one, so I used a Shrinking Charm to make it the same size. Once the soaps looked nearly identical, I placed the Rat Spawn Soap back into his bag, and his bag back into his trunk. 

I closed his trunk and looked around his area of the room. Nothing seemed out of place, so I walked out of his room. 

“Did you do it?” Fred asked. 

“Yup,” I replied, destroying his old soap bar with my wand. “Now let’s go before he sees us.” 

We crept out of the common room, checking for any lingering students. Then, we met George outside and we started the journey back to Gryffindor Tower. 

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face!” I said mischievously. 

“More like the rats on his face,” George corrected. “That little prat will get what he deserves.”

“And most importantly, he’ll learn his lesson. The next time he starts with his lies, I won’t be so generous.” 

Unfortunately, I did not have the pleasure of hearing Malfoy’s screams. However, I did get to hear all about it from Theo in Transfiguration. 

“It was hilarious,” he chortled. “I was just waking up when I heard these high-pitched screams. They woke Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise up, and we went to the bathroom to find Malfoy running out of the showers, swatting rats off his body.” 

“No way!” I laughed, clutching my stomach. “Who did it?” 

“Nobody knows. But you should’ve seen the look on his face! I’ve never seen him more scared!” 

“That just made my entire life,” I grinned. “I would’ve paid good money to see that.”

I looked over at Malfoy, who was seething with anger. He shot menacing looks to anybody who looked at him funny, and he clenched his hands into fists over and over again. 

“Nobody’s making fun of him, though,” Theo informed. “He threatened to tell his father and whatnot.” 

“Typical,” I snorted. “Does he always run to Daddy to solve his problems.” 

“Usually.” 

I laughed again. “I wonder what he’d even say in his letter.  _ Dear Father, someone put rats in my shower. Please end their lives. Love, your incredibly obnoxious son. _ ” 

“That sounds pretty accurate.” 

Whenever Malfoy wasn’t around, everybody talked about his unfortunate shower experience. Hermione didn’t find it too funny, but Harry and Ron nearly wet themselves laughing. 

Malfoy wasn’t very pleased, to say the least. 

∆ ∆ ∆

It took a little over a week for the whole situation to die down. Fred, George, and I were pleased at the success of our scheming, and the three of us vowed to throw some more soap Malfoy’s way if he was being extra-pricky. 

After many more failures in Divination, Ron and I seriously considered dropping Divination. 

“You know,” he said as we climbed up the stairs to the classroom, “maybe Hermione’s right. Maybe Arithmancy is fun.”

“Arithmancy? It’s literally numbers,” I sighed. “Ancient Runes?” 

“I barely understand English.” 

“Muggle Studies?” 

“First of all, you’re Muggle-born, second of all, Dad would never leave me alone.” 

“Well, there’s nothing else we can do,” I huffed. “Maybe we can ask for extra credit.” 

I sat down at my table, sincerely hoping that Trelawney would be so kind as to help Ron and I out. As I planned how to ask her, Malfoy dropped his bag on the floor and sat down. 

“Peppermint.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Malfoy.” 

“How are you doing on this fine fall morning?” he asked, nodding towards the pouring rain outside. 

“I actually enjoy the rain,” I replied. 

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? Most people don’t like it because there’s nothing to do.”

“That’s not true. I like sitting outside when it’s raining. I like the feeling of the raindrops on my skin.”

“You sit outside in the rain?” 

I shrugged. “Sometimes. Let me guess, you hate rain.”

“I don’t,” he remarked, leaning back on his chair. “I like it too.”

“Really?” 

“Do I need to say it again?” 

I scoffed. “No.”

“People hate it because they can’t appreciate it—the true beauty of it, I mean. But the best part of rain is after. Because of—”

“The smell,” I interrupted. 

“Exactly. Petrichor.” 

“Good morning class!” Trelawney boomed as she swept into the room. “I hope you all enjoyed your last days of tessomancy.”

“I know I didn’t,” Malfoy murmured. 

I snickered in response. “Tell me about it. Hopefully, she chooses something easier.”

“Today, we will begin the noble art of palmistry. Does anybody know what that is? Mr. Weasley?”

Ron looked up from the conversation he was having with Harry and Hermione. “Er—sorry, what?”

“What is palmistry, my dear?”

“Uh...is it the study of...palms?” he stuttered. 

“Very good! Today, you will be studying your partner’s hand, and giving them their fortunes. Now, I know you’re all beginners to this, so it will take some time to get used to the art. This unit will last until the holidays. Now, turn to page 315 in your books and get started. Find your partner’s fate, wealth, and life line and interpret it.”

I knew that palmistry wouldn’t be much better than tessomancy. If I couldn’t understand tea leaves, what made her think that someone’s  _ hand  _ would be any better? Sighing, I turned to the correct page in the book and began reading the text. 

“Give me your hand.”

I turned to face Malfoy, who had his own hand outstretched. “What?”

“I’m really starting to think you’re deaf, Peppermint. Give me your hand,” he repeated. 

“Why?”

“Not very bright, are you? I need to see your hand so I can see your palm so I can—”

“I get it, I get it,” I grumbled. I started to extend my hand, but paused. “Wait. What about the  _ germs? _ ”

“Trust me, I don’t fancy it, but I’d rather get germs than fail a class. Hand?”

Slowly, I outstretched my hand, and he held it with his. 

Malfoy’s hands were cold, especially with the thick silver ring he wore on his right ring finger. He flipped my hand over so he could see my palm, and started tracing the lines of my palm with his fingers. 

It was then that I noticed that Malfoy’s hands were warm, too. Really warm. His fingers left bursts of heat as he touched each line. 

But what shocked me the most, what tore the breath from my chest was that for some reason, some  _ twisted  _ reason, I liked the way his hands felt on mine. 

“This here,” he said, dragging his finger along one of the longer lines, “is your life line. Unfortunately, it’s pretty long, so that means you’ll be here for a while.”

“Pity,” I mumbled. “What else?”

“This here is your wealth line.” Another trace. “It’s also pretty long, but I bet it’s not as long as mine.”

“I’m not rich.”

“But according to this, you will be.”

“This is your fate line.” He drew his finger along a curved line. “I think this means that you have quite a bit in store for you. Perhaps you’ll travel the world.”

“Or maybe I’ll have a great future.”

“We won’t know until you’re older.”

There was a pause, and I realized that he was still holding my hand. I then grabbed his hand. “My turn. Now be patient because you know I’m terrible at this.”

“No need to remind me, Peppermint. I’ve seen your quiz grades.”

Scowling, I studied his palm. 

“This is the life line, right?”

“No, that’s the fate line,” he corrected. 

“Wonderful,” I groaned. “Okay, so I think the shape of this… semicircle means that you also have a lot in store for you.”

“Terrific. What else?”

“This,” I traced the longest line on his hand, “is your wealth line.”

He smirked. “Go on.”

“And this is your life line.” I pointed to a long line by his thumb. “And what a shame it’s long.”

“We’ve both been disappointed today,” he said dryly, slowly pulling his hand away. 

“What have you seen my dears?” Trelawney asked us as she approached our table. “Let me see your hands.”

She read my palm first, then Malfoy’s. 

“Interesting,” she ticked. 

“What is?”

“Your palms.” 

“Are we going to die or something?” Malfoy pressed. “Because I thought our life lines—”

“No it’s not that. You’ll figure it out eventually.” She smiled warmly at us and set off towards a squealing Lavender Brown. 

“She’s mental,” I muttered. “Why can’t she just tell us?”

“It’s not like what she’s saying is true,” Malfoy responded. “Divination isn’t even reliable. For all we know, you could die tomorrow.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So could you. Death by hippogriff.”

He glared at me. “Better than death by basilisk.”

“I didn’t even get petrified!”

“Fine. Death by dementor.”

“That’s not funny. That was  _ traumatic _ .”

“So was being mauled by a wild beast.”

“He wasn’t wild, he was domesticated. Besides, he wouldn’t have scratched you if you hadn’t provoked him.”

“He wouldn’t have scratched me if that oaf hadn’t—”

“Don’t you dare insult Hagrid!” I said loudly, any previous contentment disappearing. 

“He almost got me killed!”

I jumped up from my seat. “Well if you hadn’t provoked him—”

Malfoy copied my action, although he looked much more menacing due to his stature. “If he hadn’t brought it—”

“Get it through that virtually nonexistent brain of yours—”

“At least I have a brain! How does it feel to be empty up there?”

“I’m ten times smarter than you will ever be!”

“You can’t even read tea leaves!”

“You foul piece of dung, I swear to God—” As I uttered those words, I noticed that the classroom was eerily silent. I turned around and found that everybody—even Trelawney—was staring at Malfoy and I with open mouths. They were clearly invested in the argument. 

I also noticed how incredibly close we were—again. At some point during the argument, we had both leaned in, and our faces were mere inches away from each other. I nearly gagged as I realized I didn’t dislike our proximity. 

“Look what you did!” I shouted, feeling my face burn up. 

“What  _ I  _ did? Why—”

I threw his textbook on the floor, grabbed my bag, and stormed out of the classroom. As I left, I remembered that I hadn’t asked Trelawney for extra credit. And now that I had ditched her class, I doubted that she’d give it to me. 

“What was that?”

I glanced up from my book to see Ron, Harry, and Hermione staring at me with wide eyes. I was sitting underneath a tree in the courtyard, waiting for my next class. 

I shut my book. “In Divination?”

“No, in Charms.” Harry rolled his eyes sassily. “Yes in Divination!”

“Malfoy was being a git.”

“But it got  _ heated _ !” Ron continued. “I mean, we all thought you were going to hit him. You were both red in the face!”

“W-well, he was insulting Hagrid, and he brought up the dementors,” I stammered, thinking of the real reason I had turned red. “Then he called me dumb and I wasn’t about to let him get away with it. I reckon he needs another rat shower.”

Hermione shook her head. “Pepper, that’s not a good idea.”

“I think it’s a great idea!” Ron exclaimed. “What was he thinking, bringing up those dementors? Insane!”

“Malfoy’s nothing but a spoiled brat who likes to complain,” I grumbled. “I will not be like everyone else who coddles him. I  _ refuse. _ ”

“I agree with that,” Hermione nodded. “Someone needs to teach him that being wealthy doesn’t mean automatic respect.”

“I don’t think he can learn that this late,” Harry remarked. “Malfoy’s a lost cause and we all know it.”

As the three of them continued bashing Malfoy, the moments from class replayed in my mind. Why did I like how close we were? Why did I like the ways our hands felt together? Why did he make me red? Why did he make me feel  _ electric?  _ Why—

“We can’t do extra credit,” Ron suddenly said, interrupting my train of thought. “I asked Trelawney after class.”

“She’s probably furious with me,” I sighed. 

“Actually no,” Hermione cut in. “She seemed rather pleased, actually. She said that she saw it coming.”

I let out a snort. “Of course she did.”

“She was ecstatic about it,” Harry continued. “She said that your departure was the start of a new journey for you.”

“Rubbish. She’s mental. What would she know?”

Before anybody could answer, Professor Lupin approached us. “Good morning.”

“Good morning Professor,” I chirped. “How are you?” 

“I’m doing alright, Pepper. And you? How are you?” 

“Well, we just had an interesting Divination class,” Harry remarked, wagging his eyebrows at me. 

Lupin chuckled. “Oh really? I used to take Divination back in the day. Actually so did—” he paused briefly before continuing. “So did a lot of others. Is it still popular today?” 

“Somewhat,” I replied. “Not a lot of people enjoy it, though.”

“I know I don’t,” Ron muttered. 

Lupin chuckled. “Yes, well it is tricky, isn’t it? Anyway, I came here to ask you a question, Pepper?” 

“Me?” 

“Yes. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for lunch today. We have a few things we need to discuss.”

I was confused as to why Lupin wanted to talk to me. My grade in DADA was pretty high, and I never misbehaved in his class—something that couldn’t be said for others—but I agreed nonetheless. “Sure.” 

“Wonderful. I’ll meet you in my office, later today. Have a good school day, you four.” With a final smile, Lupin walked off back into the castle. 

“What did you do?” Ron asked. 

I sighed. “No clue.” 


	24. Celeste

_ Let’s go below from zero and hide from the sun _

The next day at lunchtime, I went to Lupin’s office and knocked on the door. 

“Pepper is that you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Come in, come in.” 

I opened the door and walked into his office. It was organized chaos, with papers all over the place, but in neat piles. He had various cups of unfinished tea—but only on the left side of the room. And lastly, he had various pictures on his windowsill, but they all laid face down instead of right side up. 

I was a pile of nerves as I sat down in the chair in front of his desk, where two steaming hot bowls of stew lay next to goblets of pumpkin juice. 

“How are you?” Lupin asked, stirring his stew. 

“Good,” I replied, cracking my knuckles nervously. “And how are you?”

“I’m doing quite alright.” He set down his spoon. “Let me begin by saying that you are not in any trouble. I can sense your nerves from here.”

I let out the breath I had been holding. “Thank God. I mean, I didn’t remember doing anything wrong.”

“No, no. I just wanted to have a chat.” 

“What about?” I asked, starting to eat my lunch. 

“Something I’ll be working on with Harry. We’re going to be working on the Patronus Charm.” 

“The what?” 

“The Patronus Charm. It’s a spell to help ward off dementors. I remember that you fainted on the train also.”

“I did. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience.”

“No, I’m sure it wasn’t. Anyway, after the holiday break, I’ll be teaching Harry how to perform the charm. Would you like to join us?” 

I nodded. “I would very much like that, Professor. Thank you.”

“I’m happy to help, Pepper.”

“Will Petunia be joining us?” 

“P-Petunia?” he stammered. 

“Vixens. She’s a Slytherin in our year who also fainted.” 

“Oh right. Yes, I did ask her if she’d like to join us, and she politely declined. She said that she takes extra precautions when going out.” 

“Huh, okay.” I lifted my goblet to my lips and paused. “Professor, can I ask you something?” 

“What is it?”

“Why did we faint? I mean, I have a theory, but—”

“What’s your theory?”

“Well, Harry, Petunia, and I—our mothers are all dead. They all died in tragic ways, and I was thinking that it could be because we’ve endured more trauma than the other students.”

Lupin smiled wanly. “That’s exactly it. Dementors suck all the happiness out of people, leaving them only with their worst memories. And when your worst memory is your mother being murdered—”

“It only makes sense that we would faint. It’s too much to handle.”

“You’re very bright, Pepper. Very bright.”

I flushed at the compliment. “Thank you, sir. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m afraid it was just a nasty occurrence.” 

“Well, I hope that you don’t get sick again. But if you do, please don’t let Snape be our substitute. It was awful.”

“Snape was your substitute?” he questioned. “What did he do?” 

“What didn’t he do?” I sighed. “He came in and started criticizing your lessons, and then he forced us to skip units ahead and start werewolves!” 

“Werewolves?” 

“And he even assigned us an essay on it! Who does he think he is?” 

Lupin frowned. “I have no idea what he was thinking. But you don’t have to do the essay.”

“Oh—I wasn’t planning to,” I admitted sheepishly. “You see, I started a rebellion against the essay because I thought it was unfair.”

“You did?” He seemed amused. “How many people joined your cause?” 

“A fair few.”

“How many?”

“All of Hufflepuff, most of Ravenclaw, and nearly all of Gryffindor—with the exception of Neville and Hermione, and one Slytherin.” 

Lupin let out a chuckle. “Impressive, Pepper. Very impressive.”

There was a small, but comfortable silence for a few moments before Lupin cleared his throat and spoke again. 

“So when the dementor attacked you,” he began, “what did you hear?”

I stiffened at the memory. “My mum. She died this summer—she was murdered.” 

“Er—right. I heard about that. I’m so terribly sorry, your mother was—er, I mean—your mother seemed lovely.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Did you know my mother?”

“No,” he replied quickly. “I simply misspoke. Do they know who killed her yet?”

I shook my head. “No. They don’t really have much to go on.”

“It’s terrible, Pepper. Truly terrible. Now, you heard her?”

“Yes. I heard her screams. And then I just fainted.”

Lupin nodded. “That must have been terrifying.” 

“Very.”

“Yes, well I wish we didn’t have these dementors here, but we do need them to be safe.”

“Sirius Black. What a nuisance,” I mumbled. 

He let out a hearty chuckle. “Tell me about it.” 

∆ ∆ ∆ 

After lunch with Lupin, I told Harry, Hermione, and Ron everything. Harry was excited to hear that we would be working on the Patronus Charm together, and even more excited to hear that our essay rebellion paid off. 

Even better, the Gryffindor Quidditch team wasn’t entirely out of the running. Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their match, so we still had a chance to secure the World Cup—as long as we didn’t lose any more matches. Wood took this chance, his only chance, very seriously and scheduled frequent practices even among the chilly rains and freezing snow. 

After a particularly brutal practice, I trudged back to the castle, shivering. Wood had made us stay an extra hour and a half in an attempt to perfect our accuracy. Normally, I wouldn’t complain, but the snow was relentless, and Wood only let us leave because my fingers turned  _ blue.  _

As I walked back to the castle, I rubbed my arms against each other, trying to warm up. Not only did I feel like I was dying from frostbite, I also had a ridiculous amount of Divination homework to complete. As expected, I was no better at palmistry than tessomancy. And much to my chagrin, Malfoy was exceptionally good at it. He spent most of the lessons correcting my terrible guesses, and taking pride in his correct answers. I was still rather cross with him for the stunt he pulled a few weeks ago. 

I thanked my lucky stars that we only had two more weeks until both the end of the term and the end of the palmistry unit. Not only would I have a well-deserved break from Divination, but I would get to see my father again, whom I missed dearly. I often wondered how he was doing without Mum, and I made sure to write to him frequently. He especially enjoyed some of the Honeydukes treats I sent him. 

The library was unsurprisingly empty. Based on how cold it was, I assumed that most students were studying in the comfort of their common rooms, right next to the fire. However, I knew that I could not afford that luxury. Harry and Ron always had a tendency to distract me, which I would normally allow, but I needed to get as many Divination points as possible. 

Sighing, I chose a cozy table in the back, opened my book, and began my homework. I knew life lines fairly well—since it didn’t take much to notice if the line was long or not—and wealth lines were the same situation. Fate line and love lines, however, were the ones that I could not do, no matter how much I tried. 

As I struggled through the first few love line questions, Malfoy sauntered over to my table and sat down. 

“You look wretched,” he remarked, opening his own Divination book. 

“Thanks,” I replied flatly. “I really tried to go for the whole maniac look today. I’m glad to know it worked.” 

“Maybe a little too well. I’d lose the snowflakes in your hair. It looks like dandruff.” 

“Your eloquence never ceases to surprise me, Malfoy.” 

He let out a snort. “Thank you, Peppermint. Now, what problem are we on?”

“We?” 

“We are Divination partners, aren’t we?”

“Well yes but I’m still rather unhappy with you.”

“Why?” 

“Why? Are you seriously asking me  _ why? _ ” 

He nodded and I groaned at his voluntary oblivion. “Because of the squabble you caused in class.”

“I didn’t cause it!” 

“Yes, you most certainly did!” 

“I did not. But if you want to believe that, that’s your problem.” 

I huffed and went back to my homework, hoping that he would leave. 

“Anyway, what problem?” I ignored his question. “Hello?” He seemed a bit fed up with my silence, and threw a wad of parchment at me. 

“Jesus Christ, Malfoy! What do you want?”

“I want to know what problem we’re on,” he badgered. 

“And let me guess, you’ll keep bothering me until I tell you?”

“Exactly.”

“Four.”

_ “What does it mean if the heart line ends below the Mount of Saturn?”  _

“Uh, it means—er—”

He sighed. “You don’t do know, do you?”

“Nope.” 

“I’m pretty sure you have it,” he said, grabbing my hand without warning. “See how the curved line ends right below your middle finger?” 

“Yes,” I answered, trying to ignore the sudden burst of heat that came with his touch. Perhaps it was because I had been in the cold for so long…

“Well when it ends under the middle finger, or the Mount of Saturn, it means that you’ll be the receiver of purely true love.” He dropped my hand back onto the table. “I’m surprised, Mudblood. I would have pegged you for a loner.” 

I scowled and snatched his pale hand off the table. “Let’s see  _ yours _ then.”

Using my newfound knowledge, I examined his palm, and found that he had the exact same line. “You have it too. Weird. I thought  _ you _ would be alone.”

I scribbled down the answer and moved on to the next question. 

_ “What does it mean if the love line is curved?” _

“It shows great verbal dexterity,” Malfoy answered immediately. “Which we both have.”

“Like I said, you never cease to surprise me with your eloquence.”

He looked up from his work and then frowned. He squinted as he looked at me, his face twisting as if he was confused. 

“What is it?”

“Your eyes,” he said, moving his face slightly closer to mine. “They look awfully green today.”

“They do that sometimes,” I shrugged, startled by the lack of space between us. “Sometimes they’re super green, and other times they’re super brown, or sometimes they’re a perfect mix.”

“Weird. Anyways, what did you get for six?”

Thanks to Malfoy’s help, I was actually able to complete the Divination assignment with the correct answers. It didn’t take us too long either. We were done earlier than I expected. 

“Thank God that’s over,” I groaned, shoving my book into my bag. “I’m exhausted.”

“From what?”

“Quidditch. I’ve been riding my broomstick practically all day long.”

He smirked. “You know what else you could ride all day long?”

I gagged. “You’re disgusting, you know that?”

“Disgustingly handsome.”

“No. Just disgusting.”

“Call it what you want, Peppermint. I know you’re obsessed with me.”

“I’d say it’s the other way around,” I retorted. “You always seem to be near me.”

“We do go to the same school.”

“Well yes, but you’re always around. I reckon you like to bother me a little too much.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he snorted. “You’re just the easier person to bother. I find more creative insults for you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes really. There’s only so many ways I can call Weasley poor, Potter pathetic, and Granger Mudblood.”

“You call me Mudblood too.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t bother you. Peppermint does. Besides, their reactions aren’t as funny as yours.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re a real ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

“That’s what my mother says,” he replied jokingly. 

“Of course,” I went along. “You just brighten everyone’s day.”

“I like to think that I do.”

“Really? Who? Whose day do you brighten?”

“Yours.”

I laughed. “Sure. Who else?”

“90% of the girls here.”

“Liar.”

“Nope. Look at me, Peppermint. I’m flawless. Most of these girls worship the ground I walk on.”

“Correction—Pansy Parkinson worships the ground her  _ Drakey  _ walks on.”

He grimaced. “Pansy is just one of many. Everyone wants me.”

“Not me.”

He grinned. “Not yet.”

“I never will.”

“You should be thankful. Pansy would kill to be studying with me.”

“You say that as a joke, but I think she would actually kill someone. Probably me.”

He chuckled. “Probably. Or maybe a Hufflepuff. She always whines about those.”

“Typical. I can practically hear her annoying voice.  _ Oh Drakey! That Hufflepuff is being too nice! I just want to strangle him with my bare hands! _ ” I mocked in a shrill, high-pitched voice. 

“That was scarily accurate,” he laughed. “Are you sure you’re not Pansy in disguise?”

“How would I be in disguise?” I questioned in amusement. 

“Polyjuice Potion.”

My eyes nearly widened at the mention of Polyjuice Potion. Little did he know that Harry, Ron, and I have tricked him into telling us what he knew about the Chamber of Secrets disguised as his idiotic friends. 

“Haha,” I chuckled weakly. “Very funny. I don’t think Pansy’s smart enough to make that.”

“To be honest,” he said in a low voice, “I don’t even think she can read.”

I snickered. “I’m serious!” he insisted. “I think she just wings it.”

“You’re terrible, you know that?”

He shrugged. “It’s the truth.”

“Maybe. But you sure talk poorly about your little  _ girlfriend. _ ”

“She is not my girlfriend! Where on earth did you get that idea?”

“Relax, Malfoy. I know she’s not your girlfriend. I just like to irk you.”

He sighed. “You had me scared there, Peppermint. I thought she was spreading lies around the school.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You mean like you did with me?”

“Well yes—but that had some truth to it.”

“So if Pansy said she snogged you, that’d be a lie?”

“Yes,” he enunciated. “I’m pretty sure that would be my boggart.”

“Wow,” I replied. “Such a gentleman.”

He bowed his head. “Thank you.”

There was a shuffle of footsteps, and we turned to see Madam Pince walking towards us. 

“The library’s closing,” she announced. “You both need to leave.”

“Is it 8:00 already?” I asked, glancing at my watch. I gasped once I realized that she was right. It was 8:00—which meant that I had been in the library with Malfoy for over two hours. Two hours that had flown by, two hours that I hadn’t despised. 

I stood up from my chair and grabbed my bag. 

“Well,” I began, “I’ll leave you here, Malfoy. I will unfortunately be seeing you tomorrow.”

“Believe me,” he replied, walking the opposite way, “the displeasure is all mine.”

Upon arriving in the common room, I instantly knew that the library had been a good decision. Harry and Ron were playing a rather intense game of chess, their Divination textbooks wide open. Hermione’s nose was jammed into a book, and Crookshanks lay on her lap, dozing off. 

As I sat down on the couch, Bruce curled up next to me, and I stroked his fur gently. 

“Where were you?” Harry asked. 

“The library.”

“Why?”

“I needed to do the Divination.”

“And why didn’t you do it with us?” Ron exclaimed, cursing as Harry captured one of his pawns. 

“For this exact reason. You distract me too much. Exactly how much have you done?”

Ron glanced at his paper. “I wrote my name.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, and you wrote it incorrectly. I didn’t know you were named  _ Rom _ .”

“Rom? Seriously?”

“I can’t help it!” Ron whined. “I’m tired of Divination. My brain is all muddled from Trelawney’s urge to find my  _ Inner Eye. _ ”

Hermione giggled. “I told you that class is rubbish.”

“You just say that because you suck at it,” Ron stated bluntly. Hermione snapped her book shut. 

“I do not suck at it! It’s just a woolly discipline!”

Suddenly, Crookshanks hopped off Hermione’s lap and pounced towards Scabbers—who had just joined us. Ron shrieked as he covered his beloved rat, earning a few scratches from the angry ginger cat. 

“Hermione! Control your ruddy cat!” Ron shouted. 

“He can’t help it! He’s a cat!” Hermione yelled back. 

“Bruce is a cat and he leaves Scabbers alone!”

“How many times do I have to tell you that Bruce has been domesticated?!”

“Crookshanks has been with you for five months! How is he not domesticated?!”

As they continued to argue, I took Ron’s place in the chess game. 

“They’re unbelievable,” Harry remarked. “Always fighting.”

I smiled. “But they’d kind of be cute together, don’t you think?”

“Oh definitely,” he grinned. Then he paused. “Do you think people say that about us?”

“I know they do. They seem to think we’re dating.”

Harry looked at me and then the both of us burst into uncontrollable laughter. I clutched my stomach as I wheezed for air, and Harry fell to the floor in a panting heap. 

“What happened?” Ron pressed, apparently done arguing with Hermione about the domestication of cats. 

“Pepper—just—she—” Harry gasped, not being able to finish his sentence. 

“People—think—we’re—” I attempted. 

Ron sighed. “You two are like a married couple.”

That remark sent us into another fit, and we didn’t stop laughing for what seemed like hours. My stomach ached by the time we were done, and Ron was slightly annoyed because he never found out what we were laughing about. Because when we tried to explain it, the sheer ridiculousness of it sent us into another spiral. 

∆ ∆ ∆

Thanks to Wood’s rigorous training schedule, I woke up every morning sore in a different place. Just when I started to recover, we had another practice, which greatly complicated things. 

I woke up one Saturday morning thrilled to see a thick coat of snow on the floor. I shook Hermione awake, and we rushed to wake the boys up. 

After a quick breakfast, we threw on our winter coats and went outside. We decided to build a snowman, and even brought an extra scarf to use. 

Hermione and I worked on rolling the snow together, while Harry and Ron tried to figure out a way to stack the mounds without them falling over. 

Finally, we figured out a way and Smoak was born. 

“He’s beautiful,” I exclaimed, wrapping the red and gold scarf around his round neck. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thanks to you and Hermione’s excellent snow gathering,” Ron commented. 

“More like you and Harry’s snow stacking,” Hermione added. 

Harry caught my eye and raised his eyebrows. I stifled a giggle and turned back to Smoak. 

“I just wish he had a nose,” Ron sighed. “Mum always used a carrot.”

“Wait a minute!” Hermione rushed to a nearby tree, snapped a twig off of it, and transfigured it into a bright orange carrot. “Here.”

“Brilliant!” Ron proudly placed the carrot in the center of Smoak’s face and sighed. 

“This here is the world’s most perfect snowman,” Harry announced. 

“The greatest,” Hermione giggled. 

“Blimey!” George exclaimed, walking towards us with Fred in tow. “Did you make that?”

“ _ Him, _ and yes,” Harry replied. 

“His name is Smoak,” I added. 

“He’s rather ugly,” Fred teased. “He’s definitely seen better days.”

“Says you!” I retorted. “Don’t listen, Smoak. They’re just jealous.”

“I hate to break it to you,” George said, “but your little friend here will melt eventually.”

“We need a picture then!” Hermione shouted. “Where’s—”

“Did someone say picture?” Colin Creevey asked, approaching us with his camera. 

“Yes we did! We need a picture of us with this beautiful snowman.”

“I can take it,” Colin offered eagerly. 

“Nope,” I shouted. “Can you prop it up somewhere? You should be in the picture too.”

Colin’s face lit up like Christmas had come early. “Yes I can! I just got the one with a self-timer!”

Colin propped up his camera on a nearby bench, and along with Fred and George, we posed with Smoak. 

We must have taken dozens of photos. Colin ended up giving each of us around ten photos each, and we profusely thanked him. He also got to keep plenty. 

“We should have a snowball fight!” George yelled. 

“Yes!” Fred exclaimed. “Let’s make groups!”

I ended up in a group with Colin, Hermione, and Ron, while Harry and the twins worked together. We played until we were shivering from the cold. I was proud to report that we demolished Harry and the twins by a whopping total of fifty points. Colin was a lot more agile than we’d thought. 

After at least three hours in the glistening white snow, we went inside for hot chocolate. We spent the rest of the Saturday chattering in the common room by the crackling fire, telling everybody about Smoak. 

Once it was time for bed, I sifted through the photos that Colin had given me. I took one, put it into a frame, and stared at it until I fell asleep. 


	25. Periwinkle

_ Cause I’m so confused when we’re together  _

Much to nearly everyone’s delight, the snow stayed. I enjoyed the chill atmosphere and the soft crunch of the snow underneath my shoes as I walked to class. 

The weekend before the end of the term was announced as Hogsmeade weekend, which greatly comforted me, especially since I had done none of my Christmas shopping. 

Harry still couldn’t go, and we were all disappointed. Ron and I even offered to sneak him out, but Hermione quickly shut that idea down. She insisted that it was for his safety, and that we had no idea where Sirius Black was. I almost told her that those rules could easily apply to  _ us _ —we were Harry’s friends after all—but I held my tongue. 

Hogsmeade was also a great way for Harry and I to start what we called  _ Operation Romione,  _ our plan to bring the two together. I planned to deviate from the group to do my personal shopping, thus leaving them alone, which would hopefully enable some sort of spark. But knowing Hermione’s stubbornness and Ron’s oblivion, we anticipated this to be a long-term plan. 

I promised to tell Harry everything, and we went to the village. 

“I need to do some Christmas shopping,” I said as soon as we set foot in Hogsmeade. “And you can’t come because it’s a surprise, so I’ll meet up with you later, okay? Maybe an hour before we’re supposed to leave at the Shrieking Shack?”

Ron shrugged. “Okay.” He then turned to Hermione. “Where do you want to go?”

I smiled to myself as I left the two together. I quickly walked into Zonko’s to buy Fred and George their gifts. It didn’t take me long to find a few things I knew they would enjoy, and I settled on buying them a variety of newly released prank products that they could test on Percy over the break. 

For Harry and Ron, I went to the Quidditch Supply Store. I ended up buying them each a copy of a Quidditch book that they’d be sure to enjoy. I bought Hermione’s gift at Tomes and Scrolls, her favorite Hogsmeade shop. After briefly browsing their book selection, I found a few titles that I knew Hermione would enjoy. 

I also found Dad’s gift at Tomes and Scrolls. As I searched their supply, I was surprised to come across a section of chess books. I poured through the titles, finding a few that I was positive Dad didn’t own. But as I bought Dad’s gift, a wave of sadness washed over me as I realized I didn’t need to buy anything for Mum. 

After buying everyone’s gifts, I strolled into Honeydukes. I had seen Ron and Hermione walking around Hogsmeade together, both seemingly very excited, and I decided it would be best if I kept to myself this trip. 

I bought an absurd amount of candy. I bought so much mostly because I’d be unable to purchase any over break, and because I promised Harry that I’d bring him back some Chocolate Frogs. 

Upon leaving Honeydukes, I started to feel both the weight of the cold and the weight of my purchases. I trudged through the village, deciding to stop for a nice, hot butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks which would no doubt be packed. 

As I walked towards the cozy pub, I felt a snowball pelt my neck, the icy cold snow traveling down my back, causing me to yelp in surprise. I turned to see who the culprit was, and found Malfoy with Crabbe and Goyle. 

“What the hell was that for?” I asked irritably. 

“I needed to get your attention,” he explained.

“Couldn’t you just say my name?” 

“No.” He turned to Crabbe and Goyle, who looked rather uncomfortable in the cold. “Leave us.” They both trudged off in the direction of Honeydukes. 

Malfoy jogged to catch up with me and eyed my bags. “What are those?”

“Christmas gifts.”

“You got me a gift? I’m touched.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“And now I’m hurt,” he whined as we neared the pub. “Anyway, where are you off to?” 

“The Three Broomsticks.”

“Really? Me too!” 

I sighed. “What a coincidence.” 

Once we arrived, he opened the door and motioned for me to go in. “Walk faster, I’m cold.” 

“Quite the gentleman, aren’t you?”

“Just walk.”

I walked into the pub with Malfoy, and it was full as I predicted. People crowded every inch of the musty but welcoming pub.

“Looks like I’ll be taking it to go,” I muttered, walking up to the bar. “One butterbeer please.” 

“Make that two,” Malfoy added. Remembering the time he bought me ice cream in Diagon Alley, I swiftly paid for both drinks before he could get his alarmingly large wallet out.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said. 

“You paid for me last time. It’s only fair,” I replied with a shrug, sipping my butterbeer. 

Malfoy plastered an arrogant expression on his face. “Can you even afford it?” 

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice,” I retorted. 

“Yeah, yeah.”

We exited the pub, and began walking aimlessly around the village.

“So where’s Weaselbee and Granger?”

“They’re around here somewhere.”

“They just ditched you?”

_ “No,” _ I enunciated. “I needed to do some last-minute Christmas shopping. They couldn’t be there when I got their gifts, now could they?”

“S’pose not. I was just rather surprised to see you without your pathetic little friends.”

“Says you,” I scoffed. “Your closest friends are  _ Crabbe and Goyle. _ That’s as pathetic as they get.”

“They may not be the brightest, but they do whatever I tell them,” he boasted. “What more do I need?” 

“I don’t know, maybe communication? They can’t even speak more than one sentence at a time.” 

“If I need stimulating conversation, I can talk to Blaise or Theo. Respectable  _ purebloods _ .”

“And it always comes back to blood status, doesn’t it?” I questioned. “It shouldn’t matter.”

“But it does. Purebloods are just better than everyone else, and that’s the way it should be.”

“Just because you were born into a Wizarding family doesn’t make you better. We can’t control who we’re born to. In the end, we’re all witches and wizards—all people.” 

“But you see, some people are better than others.” 

I let out a mirthless chuckle. “I don’t even know why I bother. I don’t even know why  _ you _ bother. You hate Muggle-borns so much, but you have no problem associating with me.” 

“I already told you that you—”

“It just doesn’t make sense, okay? You don’t make sense.” 

“What about me doesn’t make sense?” he asked with a bemused expression.

“You tell me all of this like I’m a pureblood. You explain this to me as if you expect me to change my ways. How can I change what I was born with?” 

“You’re right—you really don’t understand. I’m not trying to change your dirty blood, I’m just telling you the truth.” 

“You are unbelievable!” I exclaimed angrily. “You seriously can’t walk around with me and then insult me! Do you even realize how wrong that is?” 

“No, it’s the tru—”

“It’s not the truth! The truth is that you’re a prejudiced git, and that’s all you’ll ever be. Enjoy your drink, Pureprat.” With those final remarks, I stormed off, leaving the idiot with the butterbeer that  _ I  _ paid for. 

Malfoy messed with me on cellular level. He could go from being a decent human being to a total assbag in a matter of seconds. There were plenty of Muggle-born students he could bother—Petunia Vixens, for example—but he somehow chose me. I didn’t understand why he was so keen on bothering me in particular. I knew that it wasn’t because I was ‘the easiest to bother’. No, there had to be some other reason. I mean, he had a  _ nickname  _ for me that wasn’t a variation of ‘Mudblood’.

But that wasn’t even what bothered me the most. What bugged me more than anything was the fact that his behavior affected me so deeply. It wasn’t like last year, or the year before that. It was… different. 

His mood swings irked me, and I had absolutely no idea why. 

I checked my watch and realized that I was due to meet Hermione and Ron in five minutes. Sighing at my struggles, I chugged down the rest of my butterbeer and headed to the Shrieking Shack. 

It took a while to actually get there. The forest by it had multiple intricate paths, and I had to test a few out before I finally found the correct one. After ten minutes of being lost, I found Ron and Hermione standing right by the fence that separated the forest from the grounds of the Shrieking Shack. 

“Hey!” I shouted, causing both of them to turn around. 

“Pepper,  _ finally! _ ” Ron voiced. “What took you so long?”

I shook my head. “Long story—one I don’t really want to get into. How’s the Shrieking Shack?” 

“We just got here,” Hermione informed me. “Did you know that it’s supposed to be the most haunted building in Britain?”

“You’ve mentioned that,” Ron replied. “Twice.” 

“Should we move a bit closer?” I asked. 

“To the Shrieking Shack? I’m fine here,” Ron insisted. 

“So, why is it—”

“Well look who we have here,” Malfoy drawled, emerging from the shadows with Crabbe and Goyle. “Shopping for your new dream home? It’s a bit grand for you, isn’t it, Weaselbee? Doesn’t your family sleep in one room?” 

“Shut your mouth, Malfoy,” Ron spat. 

“Not very friendly,” Malfoy pestered. He turned to the lump of potatoes he called his friends. “Boys, I think it’s time we teach Weaselbee how to respect his superiors.” 

I let out a derisive laugh. “You don’t mean yourself, do you? Why don’t you do us all a favor and just leave?” 

“You want me to leave? You didn’t say that earlier today,” he emphasized smugly. 

“Today? What’s he talking about Pepper?” Hermione pressed. 

“You didn’t tell them?” Malfoy questioned. “Wow and you call yourself their friend. Guess Mudbloods can’t—” Before Malfoy could finish his atrocious sentence, a snowball appeared out of nowhere and pelted him in the face. Everyone looked around, trying to find the source of the attack. 

“Who is that?” Malfoy called out. “Who’s there?”

Another snowball came at him, this one pelting his expensive hat off his gigantic head. Then more snowballs came at a rapid speed, hitting Malfoy—and only Malfoy. 

“Don’t just stand there!” he cried. “Do something!” 

Crabbe and Goyle tried everything they could to stop the snowballs. But the person who was throwing them outsmarted them. They were also attacked, with their hats being pulled over their eyes and their pants being yanked to their ankles. 

Hermione and I laughed our heads off while Ron stood next to us, absolutely petrified. 

After being dragged in the snow, Malfoy regained control of his limbs, and sprinted out of the forest, Crabbe and Goyle scrambling after him. 

“Harry!” Hermione laughed. Harry ripped the Invisibility Cloak off his body and burst into chortles.

“Bloody hell, Harry,” Ron gasped, “that was not funny.”

“Are you kidding me? That was amazing!” I exclaimed. “The look on the prat’s face was priceless!” 

Now that Harry was with us, we decided to see if the Three Broomsticks was free for another butterbeer. On our way there, Harry explained to us the handy contraption that Fred and George had given him. 

“Those weasels! They never told me about any Marauder’s Map!” Ron complained.

“But Harry isn’t going to keep it,” Hermione explained. “He’s going to turn it into Professor McGonagall.”

I snorted. “No, he’s not. He’d be an idiot to do that.”

Ron nodded. “He may as well turn in his Invisibility Cloak.” 

“Hey Pepper?” Harry began. “What was Malfoy talking about earlier? About you and him earlier?”

“Oh that. I was doing my shopping earlier, minding my own business when he decided to bother me. He followed me to the Three Broomsticks  _ and _ after. I finally stormed off after he started with pureblood supremacy crap.” 

“Typical Malfoy,” Ron sighed. “Always bothering people for no good reason.”

“Look who it is,”Hermione cut in, pointing to a young, curvy witch. “It’s Madam Rosmerta. Ron fancies her.”

I bit back a giggle as Ron vehemently denied the accusation. 

“And McGonagall,” Harry whispered from under the cloak. “And Fudge.”

“What could they possibly be doing here?” I wondered. 

“Maybe enjoying the food?” Hermione offered. 

“Rosmerta my dear, I hope business is good,” Fudge said rather loudly. 

Rosmerta gave Fudge an exasperated sigh. “It'd be a lot better if the Ministry wasn't sending dementors into my pub every other night.”

“We have a killer on the loose!” Fudge reminded her. 

“Sirius Black in Hogsmeade! What would bring him here?” she pressed. 

“Harry Potter.”

“Harry Potter?”

Fudge motioned for Rosmerta to follow him inside, and the two of them disappeared behind the door. 

Before we could process what had happened, Harry darted inside, still donning his cloak. Ron, Hermione, and I tried to enter too, but we were stopped by a gang of shrunken heads. 

“No underage wizards allowed in today!” they barked. 

“I was in here earlier!” I protested. 

“Well  _ now  _ it’s closed. Shut the damn door!”

“How incredibly rude!” Hermione exclaimed, shutting the door behind us. 

We waited patiently for Harry outside of the pub on a nearby bench. I wondered what they were talking about inside, and what it had to do with Harry. 

A few moments later, the door swung open, and nobody came out. Then, a pair of footsteps was seen in the snow, and we followed them back to the secluded area by the Shrieking Shack. We found Harry sitting on a boulder, crying. 

“Harry?” Ron asked, slowly approaching him. “What’s wrong?”

“He was their friend,” Harry sobbed. “He was their friend and he betrayed them.”

“Sirius Black was friends with your parents?”

Harry nodded and told us everything. From Sirius Black being James Potter’s closest friend, to his betrayal of them, and worst of all, the fact that Sirius was Harry’s godfather. 

“I hope he finds me,” he shouted. “Because when he does, I'm gonna be ready! When he does, I'm gonna kill him!”

The three of us exchanged concerned glances as Harry continued to cry on the rock. I walked over to the rock, sat down on the ground next to him—effectively wetting my pants with snow—and hugged him. I didn’t let go until it was time to leave. 

∆ ∆ ∆

The last few days of lessons were stressful to say the least. We had finished our midterm examinations already, and in most classes, we usually did some sort of fun, Christmas-related activity. Unfortunately, this was not the case with Divination. 

Professor Trelawney had been so disgusted by our scores that she had us reviewing each section of the exam. The only people who had gotten O’s were Lavender, Parvati, and Malfoy. Even  _ Hermione _ struggled. 

Thankfully, today was the last day of review with the palmistry unit—the only unit I had passed. I flipped through my answers, trying to spot my mistakes. We were supposed to correct our papers and turn them in before break for any possible extra credit. 

“What did you get for seven?” Malfoy asked, scanning his near-perfect paper. I was still upset with him for what had happened in Hogsmeade, and much to my relief, we hadn’t spoken much during the week. 

“Is that the only one you missed?”

“That one and fifteen. Did you get them right?”

“Actually, I did. For seven, I put the love line. It’s not the fate line because—”

“Of the shape.” He scribbled away on his sheet, adding additional notes in the margins. “And fifteen?”

“Fifteen is Mount of Mercury. But I guessed on that one,” I admitted. 

“Mercury?” He spun his quill around in his fingers, deep in thought. “Oh right, right. That was a dumb mistake.” 

When he finished writing, he turned to me. “Any questions?”

I looked up. “No. I figured everything else out. Thanks, though.”

His glance did not waver. He continued to stare me down, and I began to think that I had sprouted an extra head. Before I could ask why he was looking at me, he spoke. 

“Brown.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Your eyes. They look brown today.”

“Oh—er—okay.” I looked away from his face, but peeked at him from the corner of my eye. Much to my discomfort, he was still staring at me. I tried to busy myself by correcting my work, but every single time I snuck a glance towards him, he was staring at me. He was  _ staring _ at  _ me.  _

But he was only staring at me because he was bored, right? Because he wanted to bother me?

Once I finished correcting my work, I turned towards Malfoy. 

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.” 

I let out a sigh. I couldn’t figure him out—couldn’t figure what he wanted. It was then that I realized that there was so much to Malfoy that I didn’t know. 

A lot more. 

I passed the entirety of the class pretending to read so Malfoy wouldn’t bother me. And for once, he didn’t. He just stared. 

Relief filled me once the class was over, and I nearly sprinted out the door. But I didn’t want to be rude, so I mustered up all the self-control I had and walked over to the table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“Who even knows what the bloody Mount of Saturn means?” Ron complained. 

“It depends on the context,” I answered, earning a surprised look from each of them. 

“How do you know?”

“That’s the only section of the exam that I passed,” I explained, leading the way downstairs. As soon as we stepped outside, we were hit with a flush of cold air that left us shivering, even in our thick winter apparel. 

“It’s freezing out here,” I whined. “How are we supposed to go to Care of Magical Creatures when it’s this cold?”

“We’re just going to play with the salamanders again,” Hermione said, stepping over the large chunks of snow carefully. 

“I know, but I wish we could do it  _ inside _ .” 

Once we arrived at Hagrid’s hut, we gathered around the salamanders and grabbed one. I swear I felt the poor little creature shiver in my hands. 

“Pepper,” Hagrid whispered, waving me over to where he stood with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. “Come here.” 

Keeping a firm grip on the salamander, I walked over to Hagrid. “What is it?” 

“You can put him down,” he began, taking the fiery red beast from my hands and putting him back into his cage. 

“What’s wrong, Hagrid?” I repeated. 

“It’s terrible,” he cried, holding back tears. “Hermione, give it to her.”

Hermione handed me an official-looking letter, and I read it aloud. 

_ “Dear Mr. Hagrid,  _

_ Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable accident.” _

I frowned. “But that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Keep reading, Pepper.” 

_ “However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee’s offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated.”  _

Hagrid let out a sob as I finished the letter.

“Rubbish!” I fumed. “Absolute rubbish! Lucius Malfoy is full of it, and everybody knows it!” 

“Possibly, but he’s got loads of money,” Hermione countered. “Loads.”

“But you said Buckbeak isn’t a bad hippogriff. I bet he’ll get off,” Ron consoled. 

“You don’t know the people at the Committee for Disposal of Dangerous Creatures! They’ve got it in for interesting creatures,” Hagrid insisted. 

The four of us glanced towards Buckbeak, who mindlessly nibbled on a ferret. 

“You’ll have to put up a strong defense,” Hermione concluded. “I’m sure you can prove that Buckbeak is safe.”

“He  _ is  _ safe. Malfoy was just stupid enough not to follow directions,” I remarked boldly. “You can tell them that. You have plenty of witnesses.”

“It won't make a difference! Lucius Malfoy has them in the palm of his hand! They’re scared of him! And if we lose—” Hagrid drew his finger across his throat and took a shaky breath. 

“What about Dumbledore?” Harry questioned. “Can’t he help?”

Hagrid shook his head. “He’s done so much for me already. Besides, he’s got so much on his plate right now, what with the dementors and Sirius Black. 

“Listen Hagrid, Hermione’s right. You can’t give up. We can help you!” 

Hermione nodded eagerly. “I’m sure I’ve read about a case like this. The hippogriff got off. I’ll look it up for you.” 

“I’ll help,” I added. “We won’t let Buckbeak die.” 

Hagrid sniffed loudly. “Thank you.”

As we tried to console him, Ron jabbed me in the ribs. 

_ “Ron—” _

“Malfoy’s staring at you,” he interrupted, nodding in his direction. I turned my head to see that he was right. Although he stood far away with Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy’s gaze was fixed on me and only me. As we made eye contact, he raised his eyebrows at me. Flustered, I turned back to Hagrid without a word. 

“Why is he staring?” Ron continued. 

I shrugged. “I have no idea.” 

As soon as classes were over, the four of us headed towards the library to do some research for Hagrid. We returned to the common room laden with books, and we devoured their words by the fire in a desperate attempt to get Buckbeak off, speaking only when we found something relevant. 

“Here’s something,” I said. “A case in 1722...but the hippogriff was convicted.”

“This might help,” Ron interjected. “A manticore savaged someone in 1296, and they let it off—oh wait—that’s only because everyone was too scared to go near it…”

We must have gone through at least 20 books, but we couldn’t find anything. We were getting frustrated with our lack of progress, and resolved to continue our research the day classes resumed. 

Hermione, Harry, and Ron would be staying at the castle for the holidays, but I would be going home. I missed Dad too much, and I hated the idea of leaving him alone for Christmas, especially since it would be the first one without Mum. I wondered how he was doing. In his letters, he admitted that he was still grieving, but I hoped that he was doing better. 

Once my trunk was fully packed, I went down to the fireplace where everybody else was. I said my goodbyes to everyone, gave them their gifts, and went on my way. 

I looked forward to a nice, long train ride home alone. I was rather nervous to go back home, especially since I hadn’t been there in months. My nightmares were just starting to become less frequent, and I worried that going back would cause them to start up again. Just last night, I had a rather nasty one, just due to the nerves of returning home. 

I found a cozy compartment and sat down with Bruce. As my eyes started to close, the door slammed open and I found Draco Malfoy staring at me. 

“Go away,” I groaned. “I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Right now?”

“Or ever. Go!”

“Rude much? I—”

“Stop,” I interrupted. “Just stop.”

“Stop what?” he asked, his head tilting to the side. 

“Stop talking. I can’t deal with you now knowing that you’ll be calling me a Mudblood five minutes later.” 

“I don’t—”

“Yes you do, Malfoy. Now please leave me alone. I have more important things to worry about, like going back to the house where my mother was  _ murdered. _ ” 

Without a word, Malfoy stood up swiftly and avoiding eye contact, left the compartment. His indifference towards most Muggle-born students but his mixed feelings towards me was something that still vexed me, and I wasn’t in the mood to try and figure him out. 

Dad looked different. He was physically the same—he hadn’t gained or lost any noticeable amount of weight, but his face wasn’t the same. He had heavy dark circles underneath his eyes, like he hadn’t slept for months. He was deathly pale, like he hadn’t gone outside at all, and his cheekbones jutted out of his face, any preexisting fat gone. 

“Dad!” Tears forming in my eyes, I ran towards my father and tackled him in a tight embrace. “Dad, I missed you!” 

“I missed you too Pep! How was school? Tell me everything!” 

I told him everything on the way home. I told him about Professor Trelawney and her abominable subject, Buckbeak (and his trial), Quidditch, the pranks Fred, George, and I pulled, and even about Sirius Black. He seemed rather tense when I brought the subject of Sirius and the dementors up. 

“So that Malfoy causes quite a bit of trouble,” Dad remarked as we pulled into the driveway.

“A bit is an understatement,” I fumed. “He’s foul. He’s the foulest creature that I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.” 

Dad chuckled. “I have got to meet this kid.” 

As we stepped into the house, I found that nothing had changed. The furniture wasn’t rearranged, there were no new items, and it was like I had never left. I sat down on the couch with Bruce and glanced at the mantlepiece. All of our pictures were still there, even the ones with Mum. For a moment, I thought that he was doing alright. 

But that was before we went to sleep. 

As I found out, he didn’t sleep. Dad had nightmares too. He would wake up and wander the house every single night until dawn, when he would go back into his room. 

I didn’t want Dad to worry about my dreams, so I brought a few Dreamless Sleep Potions home with me. But after seeing his sleepless state, I took to mixing the potion with his water when he wasn’t looking. He deserved to rest. 

On Christmas Day, I woke up early and went downstairs for presents. Dad loved the chess books I bought him. He had told me that he had resumed trying to achieve the title of Grandmaster, and he claimed that the books would be a great help. 

I had received a Chudley Cannons poster from Harry and Ron, various prank products from Fred and George, and a snowglobe from Hermione. Inside was the picture we had taken with Smoak the snowman, and there was even a miniature Smoak inside. It was adorable. I was about to move on from the pile of my friends’ gifts when Dad pointed something out. 

“What’s that?” I followed his gaze to a small box under the tree. It was finely wrapped in expensive-looking green wrapping paper, and tied together with a matching silk bow. I opened it cautiously—half-expecting it to be a prank from Fred and George—but was shocked to find a real gift. An expensive one. 

Inside of the box was another box—a long, rectangular velvet one. I opened it and gasped at its contents. A red and white diamond bracelet lay inside of the box, each individual gem sparkling brightly. 

Not only was it a real gift, it was an expensive one. The bracelet looked like it cost more than my house. 

“Wow,” Dad whistled. “Who gave you that?” 

I rummaged through the box to find a short note that only had the words  _ Merry Christmas  _ written in the neatest print I had ever seen—print that I had seen only once before, when I had received the Nimbus 2001 from Adrian Pucey. 

Adrian Pucey gave me the bracelet.

_ Adrian Pucey.  _

But why?

“I have an idea of who,” I replied mysteriously.

“Care to share with the class?” 

“Nope. Not until I know for sure who it is.”

“Ugh you’re so boring, Pepper.” I giggled and started to place the bracelet back into its box. “What are you doing?” 

“Putting the bracelet away.”

“You’re not going to wear it? How rude.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Help?” 

Once the bracelet was clasped around my wrist, I moved on to Dad’s gifts. He bought me a few books, some nice sweaters, but the best present by far was the locket he gave me with my favorite photo of Mum, laughing by the beach. 

“Do you remember that day?” he asked. “It was when we visited France when you were ten. Your mother loved going to the beach, and we decided to spend the whole day there. Do you remember why she was laughing?” 

I grinned. “Yes. You were being chased by a flock of angry seagulls. Mum laughed, and I took a picture.”

“None of you helped me! That was a traumatizing event!” 

I looked at the picture in the locket and sighed. “She was always laughing, wasn’t she? I really miss her.”

“So do I, Pepper, so do I. But you know what, you’re exactly like your mother.”

“How?”

“You’re funny and kind—but you won’t let anybody push you around. You’d do anything for those you love the most, even if it means putting your life on the line. And because you’re special.” 

I smiled sadly. “Do you really think so?” 

He nodded. “I do. And not to mention that you’re—” he paused. 

“I’m what?” 

“Y-You’re brave,” he stammered. “You’re both so brave.”

Something about the way he said that was off. I knew he wasn’t telling the truth, but what did he have to hide? I knew everything about Mum, didn’t I? 


	26. Crimson

_ And now my heart stumbles on things I don’t know _

I missed a lot of drama in the two weeks I had been gone. Harry and Ron were cross with Hermione because she had told McGonagall about the Firebolt Harry had received for Christmas. She and McGonagall believed that the broom was sent to Harry by Sirius Black, and McGonagall took it to have it inspected. 

I felt bad for Harry, I really did, but Hermione was right. Sirius Black could have infected it with a whole string of jinxes that could seriously harm Harry. So instead of ignoring her like the boys, I stuck with her. We spent a great deal of our time in the library, looking for more cases to help Buckbeak get off. 

On another note, I hadn’t seen much of Malfoy except for Divination. After my outburst on the train, he avoided me, which is exactly what I had wanted. But now that he was actually doing it, it felt off—almost like I missed him. I wondered why his absence bothered me when it was the thing I had craved only a few months before. Still, I knew it was better this way. Because even though it felt weird, at least he wasn’t calling me any foul names. 

But he still stared. Ron never failed to point it out, and even Harry and Hermione were starting to catch on. 

“He’s doing it again,” Harry murmured. Sighing, I turned around and saw Malfoy’s grey eyes looking right at me. I turned back around after forcing a look of distaste.

“He’s just doing it to bug me,” I said. “And it’s working.” 

With the beginning of classes also came the beginning of Harry and I’s lessons with Lupin. On the first Saturday back, we headed to his classroom for our first meeting. 

“Nervous?” I asked Harry. While he, Ron, and Hermione didn’t speak, I tried my best to remain somewhat neutral, even though I wholeheartedly with Hermione. 

“Nope. I just can’t wait to get rid of those stupid dementors.” 

“There you are,” Lupin said. “Are you sure you two want to do this? This is very advanced magic, well past the Ordinary Wizarding Level.” 

We both nodded furiously. “Yes.” 

“Well, everything’s prepared. Do you two know what a Patronus is?”

“No.” 

“A Patronus is a kind of positive force. For the witch or wizard who conjures one, it works something like a shield, with the dementor feeding on it rather than them. But in order for it to work, you need to think of a memory. Not just any memory, though. A very happy memory—a very powerful memory. Can you two think of one?”

I thought of the memory of Mum that Dad and I had talked about and nodded.

“Good. Who wants to go first?”

“Me,” I blurted. 

“Alright, Harry, you sit over there for now.” Lupin motioned to a seat and then turned to me. “Pepper, allow the memory to fill you up. Lose yourself within it. Then speak the incantation  _ Expecto Patronum _ .” 

_ “Expecto Patronum,”  _ I repeated. 

“Good. Wand at the ready and here we go.” He walked over to a shaking wardrobe, much like the one the boggart had been in. He released it, and a dementor exited, quickly making its way towards me. 

Focusing on the memory, I pointed my wand at the dementor.  _ “Expecto Patronum!”  _

A few blue wisps shot out of my wand, but no matter how many times I repeated the incantation, nothing happened. I soon found myself on the floor, half-conscious with Remus offering me a gigantic slab of chocolate. 

“That’s one frightening dementor,” I remarked.

“That was a boggart,” Lupin replied. “I bewitched it so it would be a dementor for you too.”

“So that wasn’t even the real thing? Are you kidding me?” 

“What memory did you choose?” 

“One of me and my parents.”

Lupin smiled sadly. “Could you try something stronger?”

I thought of the time that we had built Smoak before the holidays. If that wasn’t a happy memory, then I didn’t know what was. “Yes.” 

“Good. Try again.” 

I stood up and pointed my wand at the wardrobe as Lupin released the creature once again. I tried to concentrate harder, thinking of much fun we had, how the snow felt, the rush of the snowball fight—

_ “Expecto Patronum!”  _ A few more blue wisps shot out, but nothing else was forming.  _ “Expecto—”  _

_ “No, please!” she cried. “Pepper, I’m sorry! Pep—” _

_ “Avada Kedavra!” _

I soon found myself on the floor again, this time with a Chocolate Frog in the palm of my hand. 

“That was very good, Pepper, very good,” Lupin praised, helping me up. “I don’t expect either of you to get it right away. It’s a difficult spell. But the fact that you were able to even get those wisps out is astonishing.”

“Really?” 

“Yes. Now why don’t you sit down and eat that Chocolate Frog while Harry has his go?” 

I nodded and watched as Harry took his turn. Harry did much better than I did, and even managed to produce a full shield against the dementor. My jaw dropped as the dementor struggled against the bright burst of blue light. 

“Well done Harry!” Lupin exclaimed. “That was spectacular!” 

“How did you do that?” I questioned. “How?” 

“I used a memory of my parents,” he explained. “It’s not exactly happy, but it’s the best thing I’ve got.” 

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at Harry’s Patronus. Lupin sensed my envy and patted me on my shoulder. 

“You’ll get it soon, Pepper. I know you will.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

My failure at producing a Patronus quickly soured my mood. I started spending more time in the library, trying to find books that had anything to do with the charm. But since it was so advanced, I could hardly find anything on it. Hermione concluded that more information would be in the Restricted Section, and I resolved to ask Lupin for a pass later. 

The palmistry unit Divination had come to an end, and I had mixed feelings about it. For one, I was glad that I didn’t have to participate so intimately with Malfoy anymore, but I was upset because that had been the only unit I was remotely good at. And I was also slightly annoyed because that unit had given Malfoy an excuse to meddle with me, something that he had not done in a long time. At first, I was confused by this thought, but quickly realized that it must be due to the fact that I enjoyed tormenting him just as much as he enjoyed tormenting me. 

Our newest unit was crystal-gazing, and I already knew I wouldn’t be good at it. Trelawney professed it to be the hardest unit to teach because not many ‘opened their Inner Eyes’. She claimed that very few people saw something on their first tries, and she didn’t expect us to make much progress today. 

“Take turns gazing into the crystal ball!” Trelawney ordered. “Relax your minds! Tell each other what you see!” 

_ “Open your Inner Eye,” _ Malfoy mocked. “What a load.” 

I snorted. “Just  _ relax your mind _ . Now, what do you see?” 

He peered into the crystal ball, squinting his eyes as he moved it this way and that. “Nothing.” 

“Try again, Mr. Malfoy,” Trelawney encouraged. “I feel your aura pulsing.” 

I held back a snicker as Malfoy looked back at the purple orb, trying very hard not to laugh. 

“What do you see? Do you see anything?” 

“Yes,” Malfoy replied. “I think I see something.” 

“What do you see?” 

“I see… a girl.”

“A girl? What is she doing? What does she look like?” 

“She’s got dark hair, and she’s got red Gryffindor robes…” 

Trelawney eyed me excitedly. “Is it Pepper by any chance?” 

“I think so. She’s… she’s…”

“She’s what? Tell us!” she urged. 

“She’s just failed a Divination exam,” Malfoy finally stated.

Trelawney did not catch onto his joke. She stared at him with an expression of awe. “Excellent, Mr. Malfoy! In all my years, I’ve never seen a student grasp the concept this quickly! You have the true makings of a Seer, boy.”

When she left to help Hermione get her aura intact, Malfoy and I burst into a fit of snickers. 

“Wow, Malfoy,” I remarked. “I didn’t know that you possessed  _ the true makings of a Seer _ .”

“I s’pose I’m just  _ that _ perfect,” he boasted. I rolled my eyes and looked into the crystal ball, expecting to see nothing—but nearly jumping out of my seat once I did see something. 

There were flashes of green light swirling around. But what struck me the most was that the green light was identical to the green light in my nightmares. I watched in horror as the green light flashed through different locations—the beach, the park, and even some random house. 

Then, the green light faded, and I saw something else. I saw myself—only I seemed to be much older, perhaps 15. And I was smiling. I was smiling so widely that it looked like my face was about to tear into two. And my face, it had this  _ look _ on it. A look of admiration, of joy, of happiness, of  _ love _ . And next to me was… no, it couldn’t be—”

“Do you see something?” As soon as Malfoy spoke, the images disappeared, and I was left staring at purple smoke. 

“Nope,” I lied quickly. “I saw nothing.”

“This class is ridiculous. Does she really think that someone’s going to see something? What a nutter.”

“Yeah,” I replied uneasily. “A nutter.”

I hoped that somebody—anybody—would see something in the purple orb. But much to my dismay, nobody did. I left the class wondering why I, out of everybody, saw something in the orb. I wasn’t even good at Divination, for crying out loud!

“Hey, what was Malfoy going on about?” Ron asked. “He seemed rather smug.”

“Oh, he managed to trick Trelawney into thinking he saw something in the orb. It was quite amusing, really.”

“She’s insane!” Hermione scowled. “Does she really expect anybody to see anything? It’s just a ball!”

“About that,” I murmured. “I may have seen something.”

“What? What did you see?” Harry pressed. 

“I saw my nightmares. The ones about my Mum.”

“Anything else?”

I nodded. “I also saw… me.”

“You? What about you?”

“It was weird,” I sighed. “It was me, but I was older. Maybe 15? I was just walking down a corridor, smiling.”

“That’s it? You were just smiling?”

“Yeah, but it was weird. There was something about my smile. I’ve never smiled like that before.”

“You were probably excited about something,” Hermione offered. “Maybe something good is coming your way.”

“I don’t know. It was just weird. I’ve never seen anybody that happy.”

“Maybe you were a little wasted,” Ron suggested. 

I laughed uneasily. “Yeah, maybe…”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I knew it wasn’t that. I didn’t even dare mention the fact that I thought I saw a head full of white-blonde hair. 

∆ ∆ ∆

January faded in February, and it was the match against Ravenclaw and Gryffindor was quickly approaching. If we wanted to win the Cup, we needed to beat Ravenclaw during this match. 

Luckily for us, Harry got his Firebolt back, and our chances of winning increased significantly. If we beat Ravenclaw, then we’d advance to playing Slytherin, which would be the final match. 

The Firebolt was handed around during nearly every practice, and it was just as great as the advertisements made it out to be. Even Madam Hooch was astonished by its quality, and she spent at least fifteen minutes inspecting it. Once he had gotten it back, Wood gave us a run-down on the upcoming match. 

“I’ve just found out who Ravenclaw’s playing as Seeker,” he informed us. “It’s Cho Chang. She’s a fourth year, and she’s pretty good. I really hoped that she wouldn’t be fit—she’s had some problems with injuries—” Wood scowled at Cho Chang’s recovery and continued. “On the other hand, she rides a Comet Two Sixty, which is going to look like a joke next to the Firebolt.”

“We’ve got this,” Fred assured. 

It was by far the best practice we had ever had. Harry kept catching the Snitch within seconds, and the presence of the Firebolt gave us a confident boost, and we played our very best. The practice was so successful that Wood didn’t even have a single criticism to make, something that George claimed to be a first. 

After practice, Harry, Ron, and I stayed behind to try out the Firebolt. The broom was truly amazing—it turned with the lightest touch and seemed to know what I wanted to do before  _ I  _ knew. 

Later that night, I went to bed early in preparation for the match. I had a nightmare again, but it was different this time. Instead of focusing on my mother, it focused on the man who killed her. 

The man was running down a long alley, trembling from head to toe. He clutched his wand and kept muttering an unintelligible phrase. I tried to listen to what he was saying, but couldn’t make anything out. As the dream carried on, he grew more and more frantic, constantly looking over his shoulder. He then suddenly paused and let out a wail. 

“You have to do it,” he muttered to himself. “It has to be done. You have to do it.” 

He finally reached the end of the alley, and I woke up, sweating. 

Who was this man? And more importantly, why was I seeing him in my dreams? 

Like always, my questions lingered in the air, unanswered. 

The next morning, the entire team went to breakfast together. There was a huge flock of students crowding around the Firebolt, which Wood had put in the middle of the table to attract the most attention possible. 

When we got to the pitch, the Ravenclaw team was already there, and so was Cho Chang. I watched as Harry stared at her, and giggled to myself. 

The match itself went as expected. While Cho Chang was a good Seeker, her ancient broomstick was just no match for Harry’s Firebolt. He was able to outsmart and catch the Snitch, securing the Gryffindor win. 

After the match, there was a party in the common room. It went on all day  _ and _ all night long. Fred and George had even snuck into Hogsmeade and returned with bottles of butterbeer and loads of sweets. 

Even Hermione enjoyed the celebrations from afar. After Harry had gotten the Firebolt back, she was back on good terms with everyone. 

Lupin congratulated Harry and I the next time we saw him, which just so happened to be another Patronus lesson. Harry was still making great progress, while I was still only getting the stupid little blue wisps. No matter how hard I tried, or which memory I used, it never worked. 

After one particularly frustrating lesson, I stormed towards the Great Hall for lunch in a particularly foul mood, which was worsened when I saw Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson snogging. They were  _ snogging  _ where we ate our food. I couldn’t explain why this bothered me so much, but I shoved past them rather aggressively, causing Pansy to stumble and trip over her shoes. 

“Mudblood!” she roared. “You just got germs on me! Drakey, she just got germs on me!” 

“You  _ are _ a germ,” I retorted sharply, attempting to stride away. 

“Well that wasn’t very nice, was it, Atkinson?” Malfoy called out, following me to the Gryffindor table, leaving Pansy behind. 

“That was the point, you git. I’m just trying to eat. I don’t need to see you snogging each other’s faces off!” 

He smirked. “Are you  _ jealous? _ ” 

“Me? Jealous? As if,” I scoffed. “I just don’t need to see that. It’s  _ traumatizing _ .” 

“No,” he said, stepping closer to me. “I think you’re jealous.” 

“I am not!” 

“You’re jealous because you’re thirteen years old and you’ve never snogged anyone. I’m starting to think that your love line was wrong. You are going to die alone—” 

In a fit of what can only be described as anger and loathing, I turned to the Gryffindor table, yanked the collar of the nearest boy—who just so happened to be a curly blonde-haired boy named Cormac Laggen—and pressed my lips to his before he could even comprehend what was going on. He was frozen for a moment before he started to kiss back. 

The kiss itself was not what I expected it to be—mostly because I never thought my first kiss would be with a fourth year boy that I barely knew. When I pulled away, I became  _ very  _ aware of the fact that everyone in the Great Hall was staring either at me or at Malfoy, who stomped towards the Slytherin table.

Aware that everyone’s gaze was on me, I let go of Cormac, ignored the wink he sent me, and went straight to my dormitory, no longer hungry.

“I can’t believe you kissed him,” Hermione said after I had explained the entire ordeal to them.

“He was being annoying,” I defended. 

“Cormac?”

“No, Malfoy! I couldn’t stand to see the look on his face, and before I knew it, I was—”

“Snogging McLaggen,” Ron finished. 

“Yeah.”

“You shouldn’t let Malfoy get to you like that,” Hermione frowned. 

“I’m trying. He’s just unbelievably annoying,” I groaned. 

“Well, the whole school’s been talking about it,” Harry added. 

“You’re lying!” 

“You can’t really blame them,” Ron cut in. “Everybody was just minding their own business, and then you and Malfoy came in, arguing. Then you just turned around and snogged McLaggen.”

I grimaced. “I’ll admit that it wasn’t my brightest moment.”

“He’s staring at you now,” Hermione pointed out. “You should probably go talk to him.”

“I don’t want to—”

“But you should.” She nodded in his direction, and the three of us simultaneously turned in Cormac’s direction, and found him looking at me. In a swift motion, he winked again, and motioned me to come closer. 

I sighed. “I’ll be back.” 

I stood up from my seat by the fireplace and cautiously approached McLaggen, who sat by himself on an armchair. 

He grinned slyly at me and patted his lap. “You can sit here if you’d like.”

“Er—I’m good, thanks. I just wanted to talk to you.” 

“What about?”

“What happened in the Great Hall. You see—” 

“Pepper, Pepper, Pepper,” he interrupted. “I know what that was all about.” 

I blinked. “Y-you do?”

He nodded proudly. “You were trying to make your boyfriend jealous. I get it. It’s kind of hot, really.”

My jaw dropped. “No, I—”

“Besides, you’re a decent kisser. You could definitely use some work, but I’m sure you’ll get better.”

“I’m not dating Malfoy, and I wasn’t trying to make him jealous,” I vocalized. “I was just trying to prove him wrong.”

“About what?” 

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well he was being a git since I hadn’t kissed anyone before and—”

“You’ve never kissed anyone before?” he exclaimed. 

“I kissed you.” 

“But besides me, nobody?” I shook my head. “And you’re not with Malfoy?”

“No.”

He let out a chuckle. “Then perhaps  _ I  _ could help you out, seeing that you don’t have a boyfriend?”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Are you sure?” He leaned forward and smiled lopsidedly. “You seemed keen on snogging me earlier.” 

“I already told you why. I just picked you because you were the first person there.” 

He blew me a kiss. “Whatever you say. I know you’ve got it bad for me. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

“Er—thanks,” I blurted before heading back to the couch, where Harry and Ron were dying of laughter. 

“Shut up!” I shrieked, throwing a pillow at them. “It isn’t funny!”

“You’re right,” Ron snorted. “It’s hilarious!” 

∆ ∆ ∆

Rumors about my relationship with Cormac flew around the school rather quickly, but luckily, he was fast in claiming that it was a one-time thing. However, he did pull me aside afterwards to tell me that his offer still stood. 

After we beat Ravenclaw, Quidditch began to consume my life. Wood scheduled loads of practices that usually went from early in the afternoon to late at night, giving me very little time to complete my homework. 

One night after an exceptionally brutal practice, I trudged through the locker rooms, desperate to finish my homework so I could go to sleep. As I swung the door to the pitch open, I accidentally smacked Adrian Pucey in the face. 

I hadn’t seen Adrian much over the past few months—only briefly in the corridors. I still didn’t know why he had gotten me those things, and I felt too awkward to ask. But the curiosity was eating me up. 

“Sorry, sorry!” I apologized profusely. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s alright,” Adrian cut in, rubbing his forehead. He then realized who had assaulted him and greeted me. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been super busy with loads of Quidditch,” I explained. “Wood’s been preparing like crazy for the match against Slytherin—well, against you.”

He smiled broadly. “Flint’s been doing the same. Although between you and me, I think Wood takes it a bit more seriously.” 

“I think so too.” 

He nodded mindlessly and then pointed to my left wrist, which held the red and white bracelet. “That’s a pretty bracelet. Where’d you get it?” 

I raised my eyebrows. “What do you mean? You got it.” 

He blinked. “What?”

“You got me the bracelet. I know it was you. It was the same handwriting from when you bought me the broomstick.”

“Which broomstick?”

“The Nimbus 2001.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t buy you the broom—or the bracelet.”

“But you winked at me and said ‘cool broom!’” 

“Because it’s a cool broom!” 

I stumbled over my words. “But if  _ you _ didn’t get it for me, then who did?” 

He shrugged. “I dunno. But whoever did, they must like you a lot. That bracelet alone is worth a bloody fortune.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. Just look at the diamonds. Those are real and there’s loads on there. Some admirer you’ve got there, Pepper.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “But who is it?”


	27. Sapphire

_ Please don’t let me fall  _

I had started Patronus lessons with Professor Lupin for nearly five months, and I still wasn’t making any progress on my Patronus. Harry was getting closer and closer to producing a corporeal Patronus, and I could barely get the stupid blue wisps out. 

Frustrated with my lack of progress, I headed to the library—this time with a Restricted Section pass. I found a few promising volumes, and sat down by myself, trying to absorb as much information as possible. 

_ The Patronus Charm is highly advanced magic. The charm protects the caster from the darkness of dementors, and it can also be used as a form of communication. In order to perform the charm successfully, one must think of a strong, happy memory and recite the incantation.  _

I sighed. I already knew that much. Most of the books were like that one, only telling me the theory, and not how to improve your spell. After about an hour and a half of studying, I found something promising in a copy of  _ An Advanced Guide to Dark Creatures.  _ I skipped through the sections on manticores, boggarts, and something called an ‘inferius’ before I found the long chapter on dementors. I skimmed through the background and was delighted to find pages dedicated to helping the caster. 

_ Sometimes, a witch or wizard does not have a happy enough memory. This can happen to anybody, and in order to overcome it, one must use any remotely happy memory they can think of. Oftentimes, one doesn’t realize the extent of the memory, and that is usually the extent of the issue. And remember, if your self-proclaimed happiest memory doesn’t work, that means that there’s a stronger one you can use.  _

I pondered over the passage. I had been using every memory I could think of—friends, family, fun—everything. But nothing produced more than a few pathetic blue sparks. 

Maybe I was overthinking everything. Maybe I was trying to find a grand memory when in reality, I needed to use something that was simple. After all, isn’t it the simple things in life that matter? 

I brainstormed a few ideas and scribbled them down on a piece of paper, resolving to try them out in my room later. It would be a while before my next session with Lupin, and I wanted to impress him with my progress. Everytime I failed, there was a sad look in his eyes that made me want to quit the entire operation. 

I wanted to prove to him—to myself—that I could take care of myself. After all, Lupin wouldn’t be around forever. What would I do if I was being cornered by dementors then?

I fidgeted with the bracelet on my wrist. After my conversation with Adrian, I tried to think about who could have gotten me both the broomstick and the bracelet. 

I ruled out Ron because like Adrian said, both items were very expensive, and I knew the Weasleys didn’t have much money. And even if they did, I doubt that Molly would approve of such lavish gifts. 

Harry was ruled out too, even though I knew he could afford it. He wouldn’t have gotten me a new broom and left himself with the old one. Besides, he hadn’t even gotten himself a new one after his Nimbus 2000 had broken. He had used the school’s ruddy old brooms instead. 

The only other possible option was Theo, but that was just absurd. Theo and I weren’t necessarily close—we really only talked in class. And even though I knew he was loaded, I knew he wouldn’t buy a classmate an expensive broomstick and an even more expensive bracelet. 

And with them out of the picture, I had absolutely no idea who it could be. I doubted that Seamus, Neville, Dean, or anybody else would buy me the stuff. 

Even if I did find out who bought the stuff for me, I still wouldn’t know  _ why.  _ Who would buy me such expensive things, and not even write down who it was from?

I was at a total loss. 

After a couple of hours in the library, I packed up all of my stuff, and went back to the common room. Ron, Harry, and I tried our best to complete our Divination homework, which was about crystal-gazing. After we had made up nearly the entirety of the answers, we went to bed. 

The next morning, Ron’s shouts of despair could be heard. Scabbers was missing, and Ron insisted that it was because of Crookshanks. Crookshanks and Scabbers had a shaky relationship, which was starting to reflect onto Hermione and Ron. Hermione insisted that her cat didn’t eat Scabbers, but Ron continued to badger her. Harry and I were forced to hear their argument all day long. 

“Beautiful day,” Hermione smiled as we walked towards Hagrid’s hut. He was returning from Buckbeak’s trial today, and we were eager to see the results. Hermione and I spent loads of time coming up with information, and I was positive that they’d let Buckbeak off. 

“Gorgeous day. Unless of course you've been ripped to pieces!” Ron snarled. 

“Ripped to pieces?” Harry asked, knowing full well what they were squabbling about. 

“Ronald is still upset that he lost his rat,” Hermione answered. 

“I haven't lost anything!” Ron fumed. “Your cat killed him!”

“Rubbish.”

“Harry, Pepper, you've seen the way that bloodthirsty beast of hers is always lurking about. Bruce never does that! He ate Scabbers! Scabbers is gone!” he cried. 

“You should take better care of your pets!” Hermione exclaimed indignantly. 

“Your cat killed him!”

“Did not.”

“Did.”

“Did not.”

This childish argument continued until we reached Hagrid’s hut, and thank God for that. One more word out of their mouths and I’m sure that I would have hexed the both of them for being so bloody annoying. 

“How did it go, Hagrid? The hearing?”

I asked. “Did you show them all of our research?”

“Well, first off, the committee members took turns talking about why we were there,” he began, tossing a stone into the Great Lake. “And then I got up and did my piece. Said how Buckbeak was a good hippogriff, always cleaned his feathers. And I even presented them your findings.”

“And?” Hermione asked eagerly. 

“And then Lucius Malfoy got up. Well, you can imagine. He said Buckbeak was a deadly and dangerous creature who would kill you as soon as look at you.”

“And then?”

“And then he asked for the worst, did old Lucius.”

“They're not sacking you!” Harry cried. 

“No, I'm not sacked.” Hagrid suddenly let out a loud wail. “Buckbeak's been sentenced to death!”

I gasped. “No. Tell me you’re lying.”

“I wish it were a lie, Pepper, I do. But they sided with Lucius. Buckbeak’s going to be executed.”

I curled my fingers into fists. “That stupid git! I am going to kill Malfoy with my own bare hands! He’ll wish he had been killed by Buckbeak!”

“Calm down, now,” Hagrid sniffed. “I don’t need you getting in trouble too.”

“What is Lucius going to do? Execute me?”

Hagrid looked at me solemnly. “I wouldn’t put it past him to try.”

∆ ∆ ∆

It was safe to say that I was absolutely pissed at Malfoy. Because of his inability to follow simple directions, an innocent creature was going to be murdered. I briefly considered murdering him, and I even tried to calculate the maximum time in Azkaban I’d have to spend before I decided against it. 

Malfoy seemed to be mad at me too, for some idiotic reason. Besides class, he had barely talked to me. But of course, his staring hadn’t stopped. Many more people were taking notice, and I was growing rather uncomfortable with the fact that his eyes refused to look at anyone—or anything—but me. 

That night, I tossed and turned, but couldn’t sleep. The thought of poor Buckbeak dying was enough to keep me awake. Sighing, I slipped a jumper over my short-sleeved shirt and shoved my feet into a pair of worn-out trainers. I decided to go for a midnight stroll, deciding that the possible detention was worth it. I tucked my wand into my pocket, snuck out of Gryffindor Tower, and went on my way. 

The corridors were eerily quiet, and there was a faint chill. The moonlight illuminated the darkness of the halls, and I wandered around aimlessly. But after around thirty minutes, I got the dreadful feeling that something was wrong. I took my next few steps carefully, nearly crushing a rat that scurried by. 

As I turned the corner, I heard a sound and whipped out my wand. Much to my dismay, it was Malfoy, dressed in an expensive wool jumper and pajama pants. 

I sighed and put away my wand. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Peppermint.”

“Well I asked first.”

“I’m just enjoying the nice spring evening,” he replied nonchalantly. “What are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“So you decide to wander the halls? Why not take a Sleeping Draught.”

“I wanted to clear my mind. I’m rather angry at someone right now.”

“Who?”

“You, you idiot.”

“Me? Why are you mad at me? I didn’t even do anything! If anything, I should be mad at you!”

I let out a scoff. “I’m mad because due to your stupidity, an innocent hippogriff is going to be murdered. You did plenty.”

“That? You’re mad about  _ that? _ ”

“Of course I’m mad about that!” I snapped. “Hagrid’s upset about it and he’s my—”

“That stupid oaf. When will he learn that—”

“When will you learn that sometimes, you just need to keep your mouth shut?”

He sighed angrily. “That hippogriff deserves it.”

“That hippogriff was protecting himself from a Pure-prick who has no respect for anybody but himself!”

“He nearly killed me!”

“It was a scratch you melodramatic—” A loud bang interrupted my retort. Malfoy and I stood silently, looking for the source of the sound. 

“Move,” he hissed, grabbing my elbow and pulling me towards a dark, secluded section of the corridor. 

“Malfoy—”

“Shut up. Someone’s here.”

He was right. No more than five seconds later, I spotted Harry walking along the corridor, looking down at the Marauder’s Map. I was about to go say hi when Professor Snape suddenly appeared in front of Harry. 

“Potter,” he said coolly. “What are you doing wandering the corridors at night?”

“I was sleepwalking,” he lied. 

“How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter. He, too, was exceedingly arrogant, strutting about the castle.” Malfoy let out a snort and I jabbed him sharply in the ribs. 

“My dad didn't strut. And nor do I.”

“Turn out your pockets,” Snape ordered, ignoring Harry’s futile attempt to defend himself. “Turn out your pockets!”

Harry begrudgingly pulled the map out of the pocket of his hoodie. 

“What's this?” Snape pressed. 

“Spare bit of parchment.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Really? Open it.”

Harry let out a sassy sigh as he unfolded the parchment for Snape. 

“Reveal your secrets!” Snape barked. “Now read it.”

“Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs offer their compliments to Professor Snape and..." He looked up with a bewildered expression on his face. 

“Go on.”

“And request that he keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business.”

I stifled a snort as Snape’s face contorted with loathing. “Why, you insolent little—”

“Professor!” Malfoy and I turned our heads to see Lupin rushing down to the scene. 

“Lupin. Out for a little walk in the moonlight, are we?” he sneered. 

Lupin paid no attention to Snape’s remark. “Harry, are you alright?”

“That remains to be seen,” Snape said before Harry even had the chance to open his mouth. “I have just now confiscated a rather curious artifact from Mr. Potter. Take a look, Lupin, since it’s supposed to be your area of expertise. Clearly, it's full of dark magic.”

Lupin let out a hearty chuckle as he grabbed the map. “Oh, I seriously doubt it, Severus. It looks as though it's merely a parchment designed to insult anyone who tries to read it. I suspect it's a Zonko product. Nevertheless, I shall investigate any hidden qualities it may possess. It is, after all, as you say,  _ my _ area of expertise.”

Lupin turned to Harry. “Harry, would you come with me, please? And goodnight, Professor Snape.”

Snape gave both of them a nasty glare as he wordlessly spun on his heel and sulked away. Lupin and Harry also left, which meant that Malfoy and I were free to leave the corner. 

As I turned to leave, it hit me how close we were. We were practically pressed together, and I could feel Malfoy’s breath on my neck. I shivered and quickly moved, not liking the feeling. 

“Leave it to Potter to wander the halls this late,” Malfoy grumbled. 

“You’re out here too,” I pointed out. 

“I know.”

I was about to comment on his hypocritical nature when I remembered what we had been arguing about earlier. 

“Why did you say that you were mad at me?” I asked, twisting the mystery bracelet around my wrist. 

“That looks fancy,” he said, nodding towards my left arm. “Who gave it to you? Your father?”

“I don’t know who gave it to me.”

“Then why do you wear it?”

“Because it was a gift, I like it, and it’s pretty.”

“Why would you wear something with unknown origins? It could have been cursed.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know, okay? Now don’t avoid my question. Why are  _ you  _ mad at  _ me? _ ”

He frowned. “I never said that.”

“Yes you did. You literally said that you should be the angry one. Why?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m  _ mad _ .”

“Okay, you’re not mad. But why do you think you should be?”

“Are you really that daft?” he questioned. “Can’t you figure it out for yourself?”

I paused to think. I hadn’t said anything recently. In fact, I hadn’t said much to him since the—

“You’re mad about the kiss? Seriously?”

“For the second time, I’m not mad!” 

“ _ Fine _ , but why should you be? You’re the one who started the entire ordeal by snogging Parkinson!” I exclaimed before coming to a realization that left me queasy. “A-are you…  _ jealous? _ ”

He immediately scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t fancy being embarrassed like that in the Great Hall.” For some peculiar reason, something about the way he said that didn’t fully convince me, but I brushed it off. “And  _ she  _ kissed  _ me.  _ You just happened to walk in at the wrong time.”

“Fine, whatever. I’ll be off now.”

“Where?”

“To walk.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Uh, no thanks. I don’t need you.”

“What if you run into Snape again? What’ll you do then?”

I hated the fact that he was right. If I ran into Snape, there was no way he’d let me off easy—I’d probably get loads of detention. But if I was with Malfoy, then I was more likely to walk away unscathed. I groaned and motioned for him to follow me. 

“So where are you planning on going?” he asked. 

“Nowhere in particular. Just wandering. Why?” 

“I just so happen to be a frequent wanderer,” he drawled. “I know a place or two.”

“You don’t strike me as the wandering type,” I declared. 

“Peppermint, you should know that I’m full of surprises by now.”

I suppressed a smirk. “I s’pose I should.”

“So? Do you want to go?”

“Sure. But only because I’m bored,” I expressed. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied, walking in front of me. “I can’t have you thinking I enjoy your company, now can I?”

He led the way, strolling down the corridors with ease—like he had done this a thousand times before. I didn’t recognize where we were going until we were practically already there. 

The Astronomy Tower was not a place I frequented with the exception of class. As I climbed up the stairs, I never realized how beautiful it was. Maybe it was because it was forbidden to be here so late at night, or maybe because the stars sparkled a little more at two o’clock in the morning, but I had never seen anything so captivating. 

I noticed Malfoy gazing at the sky with a content expression on his face that I had never seen before. It felt odd to watch him in what felt like a private experience. In that moment, it occurred to me that perhaps there was more to Draco Malfoy than I ever expected. 

We were both silent as we appreciated the bright stars that freckled the dark sky by the edge of the tower. I had never been a person who admired the stars, the sky, or even nature, but as I stood at the top of the tallest tower at Hogwarts, I appreciated something that was so small, but so precious. Something that I had taken for granted. I promised myself to enjoy the little things. 

There must be a breeze, I thought to myself. Why else would I be shivering? 

We stayed there for what felt like hours, silently staring. 

“I think we should go,” Malfoy said after I had yawned for the fourth time. “You seem a bit tired.” 

I was shocked (and mildly appalled) to find that I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay. 

“Are you taking care of me now? How quaint,” I forced out after my terrifying realization. 

He rolled his eyes. “I can’t have you falling asleep here, and I can’t have you dozing off in class. Who will I pick on?” 

“So kind, Malfoy, so kind,” I murmured, crossing the room to get to the staircase. We walked back down in silence—a silence that he broke once we reached the crossroad between our respective common rooms.

“Your eyes look awfully brown today.”

I sighed. “Are you going to do this every single time I see you?”

He smirked. “Only because it bothers you.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

I was a hot mess the morning of the match against Slytherin, and the loads of people decked out in scarlet did not help my nerves. The entirety of the Great Hall—with the exception of the Slytherins—loudly as the Gryffindor team walked in. Malfoy threw us an especially menacing look, which Harry quickly returned. I paid no attention to them and waved to Theo and Adrian, who were much nicer than most of their housemates. 

Wood spent the majority of breakfast urging us to eat, while eating nothing himself. My stomach churned with each bite, but Wood wouldn’t let us leave until everything on our plate was gone. 

After breakfast—and a quick inspection of the Quidditch field—we changed for the match and entered the pitch. 

“And here are the Gryffindors!” Lee yelled. “Potter, Bell, Johnson, Atkinson, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. They are widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years!”

The Slytherins booed and Lee went on, ignoring them. “And here comes the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint. “They’ve got Malfoy, Montague, Flint, Pucey, Derrick, Bole, and Bletchley. Flint seems to be going for size rather than skill—”

Lee wasn’t wrong. With the exception of Malfoy’s lankiness, all of the players were well-built and muscular. Flint and Wood begrudgingly shook hands and we mounted our brooms.

“Three… two… one…”

She blew her whistle and the Quaffle was in the air. A sudden wave of adrenaline came over me, and I launched towards the ball, yanking it from Montague’s grip. 

“And Gryffindor in possession, Pepper Atkinson of Gryffindor heading straight for the Slytherin goalposts, looking good, Pepper! Ugh, no—Quaffle intercepted by Pucey, who’s now tearing up the field—YES!—er, I mean, darn!—nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle and it’s caught by—Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession—she passes it to Bell, who passes it to Atkinson—SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!”

Angelina, Katie, and I high-fived as the crowd cheered. 

“OUCH!” 

Angelina nearly fell off her broom after Flint violently rammed into her. 

“Sorry,” Flint sneered. “Didn’t see you there! Maybe—” Before Flint could finish his remark, Fred whacked him with his Beater’s club, causing Flint to hit his nose on his broom. Madam Hooch intervened just as blood poured from Flint’s nose. 

“That will do! Penalty shot to Gryffindor for an unprovoked attack on their Chaser! Penalty shot to Slytherin for deliberate damage to their Chaser!” 

I took the penalty shot, and Bletchley wasn’t able to block it, securing us another ten points. Even better, Flint’s shot missed, keeping us twenty points higher than Slytherin. 

The game was more intense than any other game I had played before in my life. The Quaffle hardly ever stayed in someone’s hands for more than thirty seconds, and Bludgers whizzed around at an alarming rate. 

“Gryffindor in possession, no, Slytherin in possession—no!—Gryffindor back in possession and it’s Katie Bell with the Quaffle, she’s streaking up the field—THAT WAS DELIBERATE!” 

Montague had flown in front of Katie and grabbed her  _ head _ , causing her to drop the Quaffle to avoid falling off her broom. Madam Hooch awarded us a penalty shot, which Katie made easily. Now we were up thirty points. 

“THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING—”

“Jordan, if you can’t commentate in an unbiased way—”

“I’m telling it like it is, Professor!” 

Harry flew in the direction of the Slytherin goalposts, sending Malfoy in a frenzy behind him. Derrick and Bole, the Slytherin Beaters, tried to close in on him, but they were outsmarted by Harry, and they ended up crashing into each other. 

“Too bad, boys! You’ll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! And it’s Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle—Flint alongside her—poke him in the eye, Angelina!—that was a  _ joke _ , Professor—oh no—Flint in possession, Flint flying toward the Gryffindor goalposts, come on now, Wood, save—”

But much to Lee’s dismay, Flint scored. The Slytherin side whooped while Lee cursed so badly that McGonagall tried to pry the microphone from his hands.

“Sorry, sorry! Gryffindor’s in the lead with thirty points to ten, and Gryffindor’s in possession…” 

Forget intensity, this game was the dirtiest game that I had ever played in my life. The Slytherins were not pleased with the early lead that we had established, and they were doing anything humanly possible in order to get the Quaffle. Fred and George took to circling around us Chasers after Bole hit Angelina’s head claiming that he thought she was a Bludger. 

Unfortunately, Bole and Derrick used this to their advantage, and they socked Wood in the stomach, leaving him completely winded.

“YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN THE SCORING AREA!” Madam Hooch shouted. “Gryffindor penalty!” 

Katie scored, making it sixty-ten. Fred pelted a Bludger at Adrian, who dropped the Quaffle straight into my hands. I seized it and put it through the goals, making it seventy-ten. If Harry caught the Snitch now, we would win the Quidditch Cup. 

I was in the middle of a pass when Madam Hooch blew her whistle. “Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I’ve never seen such tactics!” 

“YOU CHEATING SCUM!” Jordan yelled at a smug-faced Malfoy. “YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B—”

Professor McGonagall didn’t even bother to scold Lee. She was shaking with rage, and she shouted angrily at Malfoy. 

I took Gryffindor’s penalty, but I was so unbelievably angry with Malfoy that I missed it by several feet. I flashed him a crude gesture as I flew back to my spot. We lost concentration after the little stunt that Malfoy pulled, and the Slytherins started scoring. 

“Slytherin in possession, Slytherin headed for goal—Montague scores—” Lee groaned. “Seventy-twenty to Gryffindor.” 

I managed to snatch the Quaffle from Adrian, and started heading towards the Slytherin side. But as I did, Flint reached out and grabbed my broom, causing me to jerk forward, slam my face into the handle of my broomstick, and drop the Quaffle. I lost my balance, and tried to steady myself as his teammates cackled. I saw Malfoy snickering, and frowned. 

_ Oh God, please don’t let me fall _ , I thought to myself as I gripped my broom tightly.  _ Please don’t let me fall. _

“Angelina Johnson gets the Quaffle for Gryffindor, come on, Angelina,  _ come on! _ ” 

The Slytherins tried to block Angelina, but the cowards were all scared off by Harry’s Firebolt. Angelina scored, and Lee squealed in joy. 

“SHE SCORES! SHE SCORES! Gryffindor leads eighty-twenty.” 

Then, Harry saw it. He sped towards the Snitch with Malfoy right at his tail. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Harry got closer and closer—

“YES!”

He pulled out of his dive with his hand waving wildly in the air, the Snitch wrapped tightly around his fingers. The crowd exploded with sheer delight. 

We all sped towards Harry, tackling him into hugs as we celebrated. Wood sobbed as the rest of us shrieked,  _ “We’ve won the Cup! We’ve won the Cup!” _

When we reached the ground, the crowd lifted us up and we could only see scarlet. Hagrid clapped loudly, McGonagall was sobbing just as hard as Wood, and Ron and Hermione beamed at us. 

I grinned as Dumbledore handed us the Cup. Wood was crying, Fred and George were dancing, Katie and Angelina were screaming, Harry looked like he was going to explode of happiness, and I felt like there was nothing but better than this moment. 

∆ ∆ ∆

The euphoria of winning the Quidditch Cup lasted a long time, much to the Slytherins’ chagrin. Theo, Adrian, and Petunia were nice enough to congratulate us on our win, but the others made us the end of some very cruel jokes. In the end, it didn’t really matter. We had the Cup, they didn’t, and no amount of bullying would ever change that.

Unfortunately, classes continued. Things were a bit hectic now that exam season was quickly approaching. I didn’t really worry about my exams because I wasn’t an  _ awful  _ student. However, I had an inkling that I wouldn’t be doing so well on Divination...

“Broaden your minds. You must look beyond!” Trelawney mumbled as we spent yet another day on crystal-gazing. Almost everyone had seen something in the crystal at this point. Well, everyone except for Hermione. 

“Do you mind me trying?” she asked Trelawney, who nodded eagerly. Hermione studied the orb intently. 

“The Grim,” she concluded after a moment’s deliberation. But upon seeing Trelawney’s disappointed expression, she hastily added, “Possibly.”

Trelawney let out a sad, defeated sigh. “My dear, from the first moment you stepped foot in my class, I sensed that you did not possess the proper spirit for the noble art of Divination.” She approached the table where she sat and took her hand. “No, you see, there. You may be young in years, but the heart that beats beneath your bosom is as shriveled as an old maid's, your soul as dry as the pages of the books to which you so desperately cleave.”

Malfoy let out a great snort and I sent him a scowl. I had still not forgiven him for the stunt he had pulled during the Quidditch match. But Malfoy being Malfoy, he pretended like nothing was wrong. He continued to speak to me as if nothing had happened, never forgetting to tell me what color my eyes were that day. 

In a very un-Hermione-like way, Hermione stood up, trembling with rage. “Fine,” she spat. She pushed the crystal ball off her desk, and it went rolling around the classroom. She swung open the hatch door, and left the classroom, leaving us all in a state of shock.  _ Hermione Granger _ left a class?

“Have I said something?” Trelawney asked cluelessly. 

“She's gone mental, Hermione has,” Ron exclaimed once class was over. “I mean, not that she wasn't always mental, but now it's in the open for everyone to see.”

As we were about to leave, I noticed the crystal ball by our feet. 

“We better take this back,” Harry cut in. 

“I'm not going back,” Ron replied.

“I’ll go with you,” I offered. “See you later, Ron.”

We put the ball back on the table and turned to leave when Trelawney appeared out of nowhere. She seemed to be in some sort of daze—her eyes were cloudy, and her face was slack. 

“Professor Trelawney?”

_ “He will return tonight!” _ she hissed. _ “Tonight, he who betrayed his friends, whose heart rots with murder shall break free. Innocent blood shall be spilt, and servant and master shall be reunited once more!” _

Harry and I were frozen. What on earth was she talking about? Who was returning tonight? Whose blood was going to be spilt? Who—

“I'm so sorry, dear children,” she said, suddenly snapping out of her trance. “Did you say something?”

I shook my head furiously. “No. Nothing at all.”

Harry and I told Ron and Hermione about what we had witnessed. Ron was a firm believer that it was a sign that Sirius Black was coming for Harry, but Hermione dismissed it as Trelawney’s usual rubbish. Since we didn’t have any other hints or clues, we just let it be. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe Trelawney was just being her usual self. 

My DADA exam was next week, and I still couldn’t produce a Patronus. Harry was still doing marvelously with his shield, and I was stuck with the stupid blue wisps. Remembering the notes I had taken a couple of weeks ago, I headed to the common room after dark and decided to practice. I scanned through my list of simplistic memories, trying out each one. But again, none of them would work. 

“Maybe I should try one that wouldn’t work at all,” I whispered to myself. “Then the other memories will seem happier.”

Using this illogical reasoning, I wracked my brain for a lackluster memory. I instantly found one that I knew wouldn’t work, and laughed to myself. 

I pointed my wand straight at the fireplace.  _ “Expecto Patronum!” _

To my horror, a shield just as marvelous as Harry’s came from the tip of my wand. I held it for a few seconds before dropping it. 

I sat there in the dark, wondering how that could have happened since the memory I had chosen had been one with Malfoy. 


	28. Albicant

_ Find hope in the hopeless, pull me out the train wreck  _

After a night of no sleep, I came to the conclusion that the memory with Malfoy had only worked because I enjoyed picking on him just as much as he enjoyed picking on me. It wasn’t because I enjoyed his company or anything. I just like to see him squirm. That was the only logical answer. 

The entirety of Gryffindor house was still mad at Malfoy for trying to sabotage Harry like that during the match. So naturally, Fred, George, and I took it upon ourselves to exact revenge. Fred and George had been busy cramming for their OWLs, and we decided that a prank would be a nice distraction. 

“What should we do?” I asked. “It needs to be good—this could very well be our last prank of the year.”

“Paprika’s right,” George agreed. “We can’t bother with soap anymore. We need to hit that idiot where it hurts.”

“We can’t take his money,” I pointed out. “If we do,  _ his father will hear about it. _ ”

Fred laughed. “Maybe we should—oh, I don’t know—what if we—”

I thought of things that would bother Malfoy. Suddenly, it came flying into my mind. “I know, I know!”

“Do tell, child.”

I rolled my eyes but continued. “We should write a love letter from him to Pansy Parkinson! She won’t leave him alone!”

“I thought they were dating, though,” George cut in. 

I shook my head, remembering the last time he had complained about Pansy’s obsession with him, which had been yesterday. “Nope. He actually loathes her.”

“Then why was he snogging her?” he pressed.

“It was her doing,” I explained, remembering my late-night escapade with him. “He told me so.”

“Weird. But okay! Let’s do it,” he said enthusiastically. 

“We’re going to have to visit Myrtle,” Fred inputted. “We need a Forging Quill.”

“I don’t have any juicy third year gossip,” I sighed. “What about you two?”

“I think I have something she might enjoy,” George replied suspiciously. 

I raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Patience, Pepkins, patience. You’ll find out soon.”

Myrtle was thrilled to see us. She bounced up and down, giggling like she had consumed four shots of firewhiskey. 

“Rouge Rebels! What do you have for me today?”

“You’re gonna love this,” Fred began. “I heard that Draco Malfoy has the hots for our little Pepper over here.”

Myrtle yawned. “Everybody knows that. Old news.”

My jaw dropped as the twins burst into snickers. “That’s not true! George!”

“Fine, fine, fine. No need to get so riled up, Pep.”

“I heard from Katie Bell who heard from Alicia Spinnet who heard from Angelina Johnson who heard from—er, someone—that Patricia Stimpson has been putting Acne Potion into Cho Chang’s makeup because she’s jealous that Cedric Diggory pays more attention to her.”

“And what happened?” Myrtle questioned curiously. 

“Well Cho’s in the infirmary because Patricia didn’t make the potion correctly. It sprouted some rather nasty infections.”

Myrtle threw her head back and let out a cackle. “That’s priceless! Cedric Diggory is quite handsome, is he not?”

“He is,” I answered. “Now can we get our materials?” 

After rummaging through our very full trunk, we finally found a Forging Quill, and headed back to the common room. 

“Wait,” Fred groaned. “We need a handwriting sample for the quill to copy.”

“I have one,” I piped up. “The smarmy git likes to vandalize my homework.” 

I sifted through a stack of Divination papers and found an assignment where Malfoy had scrawled  _ Ten points from Gryffindor _ on the corner within thirty seconds. 

“Here.” 

“Charming,” George grinned as he placed the quill next to the paper. The quill studied the writing for a moment before copying the phrase perfectly, and then writing Malfoy’s name perfectly. 

“Brilliant,” Fred approved. “Now what should we say?”

_ “My dearest Pansy,”  _ I began, and the quill began scribbling away,  _ “I can’t keep it in any longer. My passion for you is bountiful, and I must confess my love for you.” _

George snickered.  _ “With every passing minute, I fall deeper and deeper in love with you. I can only hope that you return these feelings.” _

“No, no, no. Say  _ reciprocate.  _ It sounds fancier,” Fred interjected.  _ “I can only hope that you reciprocate these feelings.”  _

We ended up producing a four page letter full of random phrases that Fred, George, and I came up with. Hermione helped too—she thought we were talking about books, and she gave us a handful of her favorite love quotes, which we gladly inserted into the letter. 

“There,” I said, sealing the envelope shut. “Now how do we get this to her?”

“We could give it to Malfoy’s owl,” George suggested. 

A devilish grin spread across my lips. “Perfect.” 

Clutching the letter, we walked to the Owlery, waited until it was completely empty, and then crept in looking for Malfoy’s large eagle owl. 

“There he is.” I pointed to a rather large bird that was trying to attack a smaller one. “He’s just like his owner.”

“Give this to Pansy Parkinson,” Fred instructed the hyperactive bird. “Understand?” 

The bird shrieked rather rudely, bit Fred’s hand, and then flew off. 

“Now we wait.” 

As it turns out, we didn’t have to wait long. The twins and I wandered the castle for a bit before heading to lunch. As we passed the Slytherin table, we heard a shriek. 

“Draco! Drakey!” Pansy jumped up from her seat, holding the letter in her hands. Fred, George, and I exchanged looks as we watched her rush to a confused Malfoy. 

“Wha—what are you doing?” he bellowed as she tackled him into a hug, planting kisses all over his face. 

“I feel the same way, Drakey! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

“Get off! What are you talking about?” 

We stifled laughter at Malfoy’s bemuddled expression and walked to the Gryffindor table, where Harry and Ron were busy watching the show. 

“What is she doing to him?” Ron asked.

“We may have… done a thing,” I responded innocently. 

“What kind of thing?” Hermione raised an eyebrow. 

“Well—”

“We’re  _ soulmates _ , Draco! I just know it!” Pansy shrieked, clinging to his arm desperately. She grabbed his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. Everyone laughed at this, but for some reason, I didn’t find it very amusing. 

“What are you doing?” Malfoy exclaimed, pushing her off. “We are  _ not _ soulmates!” 

“But you said so yourself!” she continued.  _ “Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same!”  _

I let out a loud snort as Hermione turned to face Fred, George, and I with a furious expression on her face. 

“You didn’t—”

“Oh we did,” George chuckled. 

“I didn’t say that!” Malfoy retorted, trying to squirm out of her iron grip. 

“Yes, you—”

“That’s Emily Brontë!” 

Pansy’s face fell. “Who’s Emily? A-are you  _ cheating  _ on me, Drakey?” 

“Emily Brontë is an author!” he yelled. “And I am not cheating on you because I am  _ not  _ your boyfriend!” 

The Great Hall broke into a series of loud gasps. But nobody gasped as loud as Pansy herself.

“But—you—I—” she stammered. 

“And don’t kiss me again!” he barked, stalking out of the Great Hall. Pansy, still gripping the letter, dashed after him.

“What did you do?” Hermione hissed. “I was not aware that I was  _ pranking— _ ”

“And nobody’s holding you accountable, Hermione,” Fred commented. “You just gave us—”

“Inspiration,” I finished. Hermione pursed her lips but said nothing as she returned to her book, which just so happened to be by that Emily Brontë woman. 

“That was hilarious,” Ron wheezed as he bit into his chicken. “I bet she’ll be glued to him forever now.”

Ron was right. Malfoy was not seen outside of Pansy’s company for nearly a week. He whined every single day in Divination, and I had to use all of the self-control that I possessed in order not to give myself away.

“I swear,” he grumbled, “I’m going to brutally murder whoever wrote that letter.”

Finally, after about a week, Pansy stopped following Malfoy after he took to ignoring her completely. 

∆ ∆ ∆

Buckbeak was to be executed on our last day of exams. Hagrid had told us not to come visit, but we decided that he needed our moral support. After our last exam, we headed down to his hut. 

“I can’t believe they’re going to kill Buckbeak,” Hermione sighed as we spotted the executioner sharpening a very large blade. “It’s just too horrible.”

“It’s about to get worse,” Ron groaned as we spotted the familiar platinum blonde hair. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle stood by a rock, laughing. 

“Father said I can keep the head,” Malfoy boasted. “I think I’ll donate it to the Gryffindor common room.”

Feeling a wave of rage, I stormed towards him. “Malfoy!” 

“Ah, look who’s here! Come to see the show?” he sneered.

“You!” Hermione fumed, running towards him with her wand out. “You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!” She jabbed her wand into Malfoy’s neck, and he whimpered in fear. 

“Hermione, no!” Ron shouted. “He’s not worth it.”

Hermione slowly lowered her wand, and turned to walk away. Malfoy began to snicker with the two oafs when Hermione turned back around and punched him square in the face. Harry, Ron, and I let out a surprised gasp as Malfoy sunk to the ground, clutching his face. 

He stood up and started to run away. Still rather disgusted and annoyed with him, I stuck out my foot, and he tripped, hitting his nose once more. 

“Oops,” I chuckled. “Didn’t see you there.” 

He paid no attention to me as he stood up again and ran off. His goons scrambled after him. 

“That felt good,” Hermione breathed. Ron stared at her with an expression of pure awe. 

“Not good—brilliant!” 

When we arrived at Hagrid’s, he was a mess. 

“Look at him,” he said, nodding in Buckbeak’s direction. “He loves the smell of trees when the wind blows through them.”

“Why don’t you just set him free?” Harry questioned. 

“They’d know it was me,” Hagrid explained. “And then Dumbledore would get into a lot of trouble. Did you know he’s coming down? He says he wants to be with me when it happens. What a great man.”

“We’re going to stay too,” I cut in. 

“You’ll do no such thing!” he exclaimed. “I already told you lot. I don’t want you seeing something like that.”

“But—”

“No buts, Pepper. I do appreciate it though.” Hagrid took a sip of his tea and then suddenly said, “Ron, I almost forgot!” 

He rummaged through his messy countertop and produced a jar. When he lifted the lid off, Scabbers scurried out. 

“Scabbers!” Ron shrieked. “You’re alive!” 

Hermione crossed her arms and looked at Ron expectantly. “I think you owe somebody an apology.”

“The next time I see Crookshanks, I’ll apologize,” Ron replied. 

“I meant  _ me! _ ” 

Before Ron could respond to Hermione, one of Hagrid’s jars exploded, its contents spilling all over the table. I went for a closer look, and noticed a peculiar-looking rock on the table. 

“What was that?” Hagrid asked, peering out the window. 

“Ow!” Harry whined, rubbing the back of his head. As Harry complained about his injury, I happened to look out the window and saw Dumbledore, Fudge, and the executioner coming down to the hut. 

“Hagrid, they’re coming!” 

“You’ve got to go,” Hagrid quipped. “It’s nearly dark and you shouldn’t be here. Especially you, Harry.” He pushed us towards the back exit, and we scurried out, hiding behind his pumpkin patch to avoid the eyes of the visitors. 

We watched as Hagrid rushed to the front door and greeted Dumbledore and the other guests.

“Let’s get down to business,” Fudge said, clearing his throat. “It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures that the hippogriff known as Buckbeak shall be executed this day at sundown.”

“There, there, Hagrid. It’ll be alright,” Dumbledore consoled as Hagrid let out a wail. 

Fudge cleared his throat and continued. “The execution—”

Hermione suddenly whipped her head around and looked through the forest behind us. 

“What is it?” 

“I thought I saw… never mind.”

“Let’s go!” Ron urged. We snuck out from the pumpkins, and ran back to the hill where Hermione had punched Malfoy. The four of us stood there, trying to get a better look at the execution. I thought that they weren’t going to do it when I heard the sickening sound of a blade cutting something. I felt my stomach churn, and I tried not to vomit as Hermione sobbed into Ron’s chest. 

“Ow!” I turned my head to see Ron clutching his finger. “Scabbers bit me!” 

Scabbers jumped off of Ron’s hand and started to run away. Ron chased after him, leaving us on the grassy hill. 

“Ron!” I shouted, starting to follow him and the stupid rat. “Ron!” 

Scabbers scurried across the grounds, and Ron kept running after him. We chased both of them all the way to the Whomping Willow. Ron caught him right underneath the tree. Harry, Hermione, and I froze in our tracks. 

“Ron, move! It’s the Whomping Willow!” I shrieked. But Ron paid no attention to me. He was trembling from head to toe, and he raised a finger. 

“R-run!” he stuttered. “It’s the Grim!” 

Behind us was a large black dog. It snarled and ran towards Ron, tackling him. The dog grabbed Ron by the leg and dragged him underneath a small hole in the Whomping Willow. 

“Ron!” I shouted. “Oh God, what are we going to do?”

“We need to rescue him!” Hermione yelled. The three of us took one look at the tree and sprinted towards it, hoping that we would be fast enough to avoid any branches. 

As soon as we were close enough to the tree, the branches went crazy. I was immediately thrown onto my back by a sharp branch. Groaning, I stood up only to be smacked again, this branch cutting my cheek. I managed to duck the next few branches, but was struck down by another. This one spun me around so many times that I thought I was sure to vomit.

As I was hurled around by the tree, I spotted the entrance. I quickly grabbed Harry’s shirt and tossed him off the branch and into the entrance. Hermione quickie followed my lead, and we both fell through the entrance. 

I groaned as I hit the ground. Hermione, however, had the luxury of using Harry as a safety net. 

We walked through the tunnel cautiously, and ended up in a run-down house. We climbed up various flights of stairs before we reached a room that was worse than the rest of the house. The furniture was broken, the paper was peeling from the walls, and there were stains everywhere. 

Ron sat on a broken bed, his leg badly bloodied. Once he saw us, he grew even paler.

“It’s a trap! He’s the dog—an Animagus!” he shouted. 

We turned around and saw muddy paw prints on the dirty floor. But that wasn’t what scared me. What scared me was the fact that those paw prints turned into footprints. I followed the trail, and my eyes landed on Sirius Black. 

He was tall and incredibly skinny—like he hadn’t been eating well. Every inch of his body was caked in grime and muck, and his clothes were terribly ripped. His long hair was greasier than Snape’s, and it clung to his face, which looked more like a skull than a normal human face. He said nothing as he stared menacingly at us. 

Ron stood up and stood in front of Harry. “If you want to kill Harry, you’re going to have to kill us too!” He paled and swayed slightly as he stood. 

“Ron, your leg,” I hissed. “Sit.” 

Black walked towards us. “She’s right. Sit or you’ll damage that leg more.” 

“Did you hear me? You’ll have to kill all four of us!” Ron said weakly, even though he was using Hermione and I as human crutches. 

“There will be only one murder here tonight,” Black murmured, grinning maniacally. 

“Then it’ll be you!” Harry roared. He ran out of our reach and tackled Black. 

Black let out a dark laugh as Harry pointed his wand at him. “Are you going to kill me, Harry?”

Before any of us could say anything else, Lupin burst into the room.  _ “Expelliarmus!”  _

Harry’s wand flew out of his hands. Lupin nodded, and Harry moved back towards us. 

“Looking rather ragged, aren’t we, Sirius?” Lupin asked as he got closer to the maniac. “Finally the flesh reflects the madness within.”

“You’d know all about the madness within, wouldn’t you, Remus?” Black responded. Then to everyone’s horror, Lupin lowered his wand, helped Black up, and then they  _ hugged _ . 

“I found him!” Black exclaimed joyfully as they embraced. 

“I know.”

“It’s him! I found him! Let’s kill him!” 

“No!” Hermione screamed. “I trusted you! And all this time, you’ve been his  _ friend! _ ” She turned to us. “He’s a werewolf! That’s why he’s been missing classes!” 

_ “A werewolf?!” _ I screeched. “What?” 

Lupin let go of Black. “How long have you known?” 

“Since Professor Snape set the essay!” Hermione replied. 

Lupin grinned. “The one you refused to do, Pepper. Remember how you started a rebellion—”

“You started a rebellion against an essay?” Black chuckled. “Reminds me of an old friend. He’s actually—”

“Now is not the right time, Sirius, you know that,” Lupin interrupted. He then faced Hermione. “You really are the brightest witch of your age.”

“Enough talk, Remus!” Black shouted impatiently. “Let’s kill him!” 

“Wait!” Lupin hissed. 

“I DID MY WAITING!” he bellowed. “TWELVE YEARS OF IT! IN AZKABAN!” 

“Very well then. Kill him,” Lupin sighed, tossing him his wand. “But wait one more minute. Harry deserves to know why.” 

“I know why!” Harry cut in. “You betrayed my parents! You’re the reason they’re dead!”

“No, it wasn’t him,” Lupin declared. “Someone did betray your parents, but it was someone who, until quite recently, I believed to be dead!”

“Who was it then?” 

“Peter Pettigrew! And he’s right in this room!” Black drawled. “Come out, come out, Peter! Come out and play!” 

_ “Expelliarmus!”  _ Snape disarmed Black, and stood by the door. 

“Vengeance is sweet!” he announced. “How I hoped I’d be the one to catch you.”

“Severus—” 

“I told Dumbledore you were helping your old friend into the castle,” Snape interrupted. “And here’s the proof.”

“Brilliant, Snape,” Black sneered. “You've put your keen mind to the task and come to the wrong conclusion. Now if you'll excuse us, Remus and I have some unfinished business to attend to.” 

Snape jabbed his wand into Black’s neck. “Give me a reason. I beg you.”

“Don’t be a fool, Severus,” Lupin scoffed.

“He can’t help it,” Black interjected. “It’s habit.”

“Sirius, be quiet!” 

“ _ You _ be quiet!” 

“Look at you two quarreling like an old married couple,” Snape jeered.

“Why don’t you run along and play with your chemistry set—”

“I could do it, you know,” Snape threatened. “But why deny the dementors? They’re longing to see you.” Black paled. “Do I detect a flicker of fear? Oh, yes. A Dementor’s Kiss. One can only imagine what that must be like. It’s said to be nearly unbearable to witness, but I’ll do my best.”

“Severus, please—” 

Harry slowly grabbed my wand from my pocket. Then, he turned to Snape. 

_ “Expelliarmus!”  _

Snape went flying into the air, hitting the wall with a thud. 

“You attacked a teacher!” Hermione cried. 

“Tell me about Peter Pettigrew,” Harry demanded, ignoring Hermione. 

“He was at school with us. We thought he was our friend,” Lupin began. 

“Pettigrew’s dead. You killed him!” Harry pointed at Black. 

Lupin shook his head. “No, he didn’t. I thought so, too, until you mentioned Pettigrew on the map!”

“The map was lying, then!” Harry shouted. 

“The map never lies! Pettigrew is alive! And he’s right there!” Sirius yelled, pointing at Ron and Scabbers.

“Me? He’s mental!” Ron trembled.

“Not you! The rat!” Black hissed. 

Ron gripped his pet protectively. “Scabbers has been in my family for-”

“Twelve years? Curiously long life for a common garden rat! He’s missing a toe, isn’t he?”

“So what?” Ron spat. 

“All they could find of Pettigrew was his—” 

“Finger! Dirty coward cut it off so everyone would think he’s dead! And then he transformed into a rat!”

“Show me. Give it to him, Ron,” Harry ordered. Black tried to pry the fat creature from Ron’s hands. 

“What are you trying to do to him?” Ron pressed. He continued to protest as Black held the rat. He dropped him on the floor and Lupin hit him with a spell. Everyone gasped as Scabbers turned into a fat, disheveled man. I didn’t see his face at first, since he was halfway through the door, but when I did, I let out a scream. 

It was the fat man with the bushy hair. 

_ “For the love of Merlin,” the man groaned, interrupting Mum. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Mum. _

_ “No, please!” she cried. “Pepper, I’m sorry! Pep—” _

_ “Avada Kedavra!”  _

“T-that’s him!” I yowled. “That’s him! That’s the man who killed my mother!” 

Everyone let out a gasp. 

“What?” Black pressed. “He  _ what? _ ” 

“He killed my mother! It was you, you bastard!” 

The man—Peter Pettigrew—paled. “I-I—”

“You monster!” Lupin roared. “How dare you? How dare you kill an innocent person?” 

“I had to!” Pettigrew moaned. “I had to!” 

“You didn’t need to do anything, you coward!” I seethed. “You didn’t need to kill her! What did she ever do to you?”

“She was—a—she—I had to! I had to!” 

“Give me my wand, Harry!” I snarled. “Give it to me! This bastard deserves to die!” 

“Why?” Black questioned. “Why did you kill her?” 

“She—she was a Muggle!” Pettigrew spat. “How could I not? I needed to prove to the Dark Lord that I was worthy! I—”

“I’ll kill you!” I raged. “I’ll kill you! I’ll—”

“Pepper, calm down—”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down!” I snapped at Lupin. “He killed my mother. My  _ innocent _ mother. And Harry’s parents. He deserves to rot in hell!” 

Pettigrew ran up to Lupin and Black, ignoring my fury. “Sirius! Remus! My old friends!” He turned to Harry. “Harry! Look at you! You look so much like your father! Like James! We were the best of friends!”

“How dare you speak to Harry! How dare you talk about James in front of him!” Sirius yelled. “And how dare you ignore Pepper? You killed her  _ mother,  _ Peter! That’s unforgivable!” 

“You sold James and Lily to Voldemort, didn’t you?” Lupin asked over Black’s screams. 

Pettigrew whimpered. “I didn’t mean to! The Dark Lord. You have no idea the weapons he possesses! Ask yourself, Sirius! What would you have done?”

“I would have died!” Black screamed. “I would have died, rather than betray my friends!”

“Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed! Your dad would have spared me! He would show me mercy!” Pettigrew begged, clutching Harry’s shoulders. 

“You should've realized, Peter, that if Voldemort didn't kill you, then we would!” Lupin said, yanking him off of Harry. “Together, Sirius?” 

“No!” Harry shouted.

Lupin frowned. “Harry, this man—”

“Harry, he’s a murderer!” I cut in. 

“I know what he is. But we’ll take him to the castle.” 

“Why—” 

“Bless you, boy! Bless you!” Pettigrew interrupted, rushing to Harry.

“Get off! I said we’d take you to the castle. After that, the dementors can have you,” Harry retorted coldly. 

Lupin seized Peter, keeping a firm grip on him, and we started heading back towards the castle. 

“Are you okay?” Harry asked. 

“No,” I replied. “But at least he’s getting what he deserves.” 

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Pepper,” Black consoled, patting me on the shoulder. “I’m sure your mother was lovely.” 

“She was.” 

Black and Harry both helped Ron out of the room. 

“Sorry about the bite,” Black apologized. “I reckon that twinges a bit.” 

“A bit? A bit? You almost tore off my leg!” Ron groaned. 

“I was going for the rat. Normally, I have a very sweet disposition as a dog. More than once, James suggested that I make the change permanent. The tail I could live with. But the fleas, they’re murder,” he joked, earning a laugh from all of us. 

Once we were out of the now-calm Whomping Willow, Black set Ron down on a rock, and walked away. While Harry went to go speak with him, Hermione, Ron, and I stayed behind. 

“That looks really painful,” Hermione remarked.

“It’s so painful,” Ron conversed. “They might have to chop it.”

“No they won’t,” I reassured, waving my hand. “I’m sure that Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix it up in no time.” 

“Probably,” he sighed. “Your bracelet is pretty. I know you got it a long time ago, but it looks nice.”

“Thanks. I like it a lot too.” 

“The colors remind me of peppermint candy. You know, red and white?” 

I froze. “P-peppermint?”

“Oh yeah,” Hermione added. “It’s cute. And it looks like it cost a fortune.”

“It was a gift,” I whispered, everything clicking together in my mind. Malfoy bought the bracelet. And the broom. Draco Malfoy, hater of all things Muggle, bought  _ me _ —a Mudblood—an expensive diamond bracelet and a state-of-the-art racing broom. But why? 

It then hit me. The thought was terrifying at first, but I quickly realized it to be true. 

I didn’t hate Malfoy. I didn’t despise him. But if I didn’t hate him, then what did I feel?

“From who?” Ron asked, interrupting my internal soliloquy. I was thankful that he had, mostly because I wasn’t sure that I was ready to deal with this new information at the moment. But I didn’t even know how to answer his question. 

“I—”

“Turn me into a maggot! Turn me into a flobberworm!” Pettigrew pleaded. “Anything but the dementors! Please!” 

He scampered over to Ron. “Ron, haven’t I been a good friend? A good pet? You won’t let them give me to the dementors, will you?”

“Stay away!” Ron boomed. “You creep!” 

Pettigrew made a move for Hermione. “Sweet girl, clever girl! Surely you wouldn’t—”

“Get away from them!” Lupin ordered. 

“Oh no!” Hermione cried suddenly. “Look!” She pointed at the sky, and a full moon was blossoming. 

“Harry!” I yelled. He and Black took one look at the moon and rushed over to Lupin, who was starting to shake. 

“Remus, my old friend, have you taken your potion tonight?” Black wrapped his arms around Lupin, who was quickly paling. “You know the man you truly are, Remus! This heart is where you truly live! This heart here! The flesh is only flesh!” 

As Lupin began to transform, he dropped his wand, and Pettigrew made a mad dash for it, but Harry managed to disarm him. 

But Pettigrew had other means to escape. He waved at us as he turned back into rat-form and scurried across the fields.

“No!” I bellowed, trying to run after the rodent, but Harry yanked me back. 

Lupin let out a final screech and finished becoming a werewolf. He tossed Black aside like he was a sack of potatoes and glared at us. 

“Professor?” Hermione called. “Professor Lupin?”

Lupin let out a howl and started stalking towards us. Snape suddenly appeared, and pointed his wand at Lupin. The five of us stalked backwards. Then, Black turned into his dog form. He fought Lupin while we watched in fear. Black was clearly losing the fight. He was no match for a werewolf, especially one who hadn’t taken the Wolfsbane Potion. I flinched as Lupin snarled and injured his close friend. 

Harry, wanting to protect his godfather, threw a rock at Lupin’s head, diverting the attention from Black to us. Lupin charged towards us, and almost pounced. But the sudden howls of another werewolf pierced the air, and he went after it. Black disappeared, and Harry ran after him, leaving Hermione, Ron, and I with a furious Snape. 

I tried to follow Harry, but Snape pulled the collar of my sweater back. 

“Stay here!” he barked. “Don’t be as foolish as Potter. We need to get you three to the infirmary immediately.”

“But Professor—”

“No buts. Let’s go.” Snape forced us back to the castle and to the Hospital Wing. With each step, my mind flurried with the events of the past few hours. 

Sirius Black wasn’t a murderer. He was innocent. 

Lupin was a werewolf. 

Peter Pettigrew, the coward who sold out Lily and James Potter, also happened to be the person who killed my mother simply because she was a Muggle. 

Draco Malfoy bought me a Nimbus 2001 and an expensive diamond bracelet. 

I tried not to think about the last one too much. 

I had a few nasty injuries. The Whomping Willow’s attack left me with another concussion (two years in a row!), several deep cuts, and internal bleeding. Luckily, Madam Pomfrey was able to fix my ailments with simple spells. 

Ron did not lose his leg. It was a rather nasty cut, but Madam Pomfrey was able to restore his blood and heal most of it. It would just be sore for a few days. 

Once we were all healed, we waited patiently for Harry. As time passed, I grew more and more worried. What if he had gotten lost? What if he had gotten injured and nobody could help him? What if Lupin had—

“Take this,” Madam Pomfrey ordered, shoving a potion into my hands. “It’s Dreamless Sleep. You need to rest. All of you.”

I downed the potion and laid down in the stiff hospital bed. I kept worrying until I felt the numbness of the potion take over my body. The last thing my mind went to was my bracelet, which was ridiculous considering everything else that had happened. But I can’t control it, can I?

∆ ∆ ∆

When I woke up, Harry was in the bed next to me, unconscious. Hermione was next to Ron across from us, and she too was awake. 

We waited for Harry to regain consciousness. When he did, he quickly sat up and blurted, “I saw my dad.” 

“What?”

“He sent the dementors away,” Harry babbled. “Across the lake. I saw him!” 

“Harry,” Hermione began gently. “They’ve captured Sirius. They’re going to perform the Kiss.”

“Since when?” I exclaimed. “How do you know that?”

“I didn’t take the Sleeping Draught,” Hermione admitted sheepishly. “I wanted to wait for Harry, and I overheard Snape and the Minister talking about it. Snape’s making himself some sort of hero.”

“What a load of rubbish! He was knocked out for most of it!” 

“What’s the Kiss?” Harry asked. “Are they going to kill him?”

Hermione shook her head. “It’s worse. Much worse. They’re going to suck out his soul.”

“They can’t do that! He’s innocent!” 

At that time, Dumbledore strolled into the Hospital Wing. I jumped out of bed. 

“Headmaster, you’ve got to stop them! They’ve got the wrong man! Sirius Black didn’t kill anybody—Peter Pettigrew did!” 

“Scabbers!” Ron added. “It was Scabbers! And he’s the one who killed Pepper’s mother—”

“Scabbers?” 

“My rat,” Ron explained hastily. “Well, he’s not really a rat. He was a rat—but he was Percy’s first. Now he’s got an owl—”

“The point is that we know the truth,” I continued. “Pettigrew is the murderer. Please believe us, sir. He killed my mother.” 

“I believe you, Miss Atkinson, I do. But the word of four thirteen-year-old wizards will convince few others. A child's voice, however honest and true, is meaningless to those who have forgotten how to listen.” Harry, Ron, and I exchanged confused looks as Hermione listened intently. “Mysterious thing, time. Powerful, too. And, when meddled with, dangerous. Sirius Black is in the topmost cell of the Dark Tower.”

“What—” 

“You know the laws, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said, cutting me off. “You must not be seen. And you would, I feel, do well to return before this last chime. If not—well, the consequences are really too ghastly to discuss. Three turns should do it, I think. If you succeed, more than one innocent life may be spared tonight.” Hermione nodded obediently. “And by the way, when in doubt, I find retracing my steps to be a wise place to begin. Good luck.”

“What’s he talking about?” Ron asked as he left the infirmary. 

“Sorry, Ron, but seeing as you can’t walk…” Hermione reached into her jacket and pulled out a shiny gold necklace with a small hourglass attached to it. She wrapped it around Harry and I, and spun the hourglass around three times. 

I watched in amazement as everything moved backwards. I saw people going in and out of the Hospital Wing. Snape, Minister Fudge, Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and… Malfoy. My eyes widened as I saw him linger over my bed for a minute or two. He left as soon as he had come. 

I turned to face Harry and Hermione, expecting them to start questioning why Malfoy was here in the first place, but they weren’t paying much attention to their surroundings. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the spinning stopped, and it was now light outside. Hermione took the chain off of us and tucked it back into her sweater. She glanced at the clock. 

“What was that?” I pressed. 

“7:30. Where were we at 7:30?” Hermione inquired. 

“I don’t know. Hagrid’s? Hermione, what’s—”

She started walking out of the Hospital Wing. “Come on, we don’t have much time. And we can’t be seen.” 

We followed her as she sprinted down the corridors. She ran all the way to the grassy hill where we had watched Buckbeak’s execution and stopped. 

“Hermione, can you please tell us what’s going on?” Harry pleaded. 

“Wait a minute,” I cut in. “That’s us!” I watched as Hermione threatened Malfoy. “What—how?”

Hermione pulled us aside and showed us the hourglass necklace again. “This is a Time-Turner. McGonagall gave it to me first term. It’s how I’ve been getting to all of my lessons.”

“You mean we’ve gone back in time?” Harry asked in disbelief. 

“That’s impossible!” 

“No it isn’t, Pepper. I’ve been doing it all year,” Hermione stated. “Now, Dumbledore wanted us to return to this exact moment. There’s something here he wants us to change—but what is it?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He wants us to save Buckbeak!” I exclaimed as past-Hermione punched past-Malfoy. “Nice punch by the way.” 

She grinned. “Nice job tripping him.” 

We followed our past-selves stealthily to Hagrid’s, and hid behind the same pumpkin patch from before, watching ourselves talk to Hagrid. 

“Fudge’s coming,” Harry whispered. “We have to go save Buckbeak—”

“Not yet,” Hermione whispered back. “They have to see Buckbeak or else they’ll think Hagrid released him!” 

“Scabbers!” past-Ron cried. 

“There’s Pettigrew,” I murmured, starting to stand up. Hermione pulled the sleeve of my sweater. 

“Pepper, no!” 

“He killed our parents, Hermione,” Harry retorted. “You can’t expect us to just sit here!” 

“You must! Listen, you’re both in Hagrid’s hut right now and if you go bursting in there, you’ll think you’ve gone mad! Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time.  _ We cannot be seen. _ ” 

Harry and I begrudgingly crouched back down. Fudge and Dumbledore were practically at the hut now, but we weren’t leaving. 

“Why aren’t we leaving?” I questioned. Hermione poked her head up, grabbed a small pebble from a pumpkin, and threw it through Hagrid’s window.

“Hermione!” 

She paid no attention to our protests as she threw a second rock, this one hitting the back of past-Harry’s head. 

“That hurt!” Harry whined. 

“Sorry.” 

“We’re coming out the back door. Go!” I hissed, moving towards the forest. We hid behind two large trees as we waited for our past-selves to leave. 

I poked my head through the tree and peered at my past self. I was mildly horrified to see that my hair was a frizzy mess, long strands poking out of my ponytail. 

“Is that really what my hair looks like from the back?” I asked rather loudly. As soon as the words left my mouth, past-Hermione whipped around. 

“What?” past-Harry questioned. 

“I thought I just saw… never mind.” 

“Let’s go!” past-Ron urged, and we scurried off, running towards the hill we came from. Once we were gone, we ran back to the pumpkin patch. 

“Dumbledore and Fudge are distracted,” I observed as I peered over the tall pumpkins. “Let’s go!” 

Slowly but surely, the three of us crept towards Buckbeak, who was sitting peacefully on the ground. Harry untied his chains and tried to pull him, but Buckbeak would not move. He let out an angry squawk and closed his eyes. 

As Harry continued to pull Buckbeak away, I noticed a heap of dead ferrets not too far from where Hermione stood. 

“Hermione! The ferrets!” 

She rushed over to the pile and tossed me a ferret. As she started to scoop more up, I dangled the dead creature in front of Buckbeak’s face.

“Here, Beaky! Come get the nice dead ferret!” I cooed. Buckbeak lifted his head and let out another shriek. I threw him the ferret just as Hermione dangled another one in his face.

“Come on, Buckbeak! Come on!” 

Thanks to a multitude of ferrets, we were able to sneak Buckbeak into the forest. We watched as Hagrid, Dumbledore, Fudge, and the executioner walked outside. 

“Where is the beast?” Fudge cried. “I saw him only moments ago!”

“How extraordinary,” Dumbledore remarked. 

Fudge scowled. “Come on, Dumbledore! Somebody obviously released him. Perhaps it was Hagrid?”

“Hagrid was with us the entire time, Minister. How could it have been him?”

“Right,” Fudge said unenthusiastically. “We must search the grounds.”

Dumbledore waved his hand carelessly. “Search the skies if you must. Meanwhile, I’d like a nice cup of tea or a large brandy.” Hagrid nodded and disappeared into his hut. “Oh and executioner, your services are no longer needed.”

The executioner swung his axe onto a pumpkin in rage, and we disappeared deeper into the forest with Buckbeak. 

“Now what?” Harry asked as we got closer to the Whomping Willow. 

“Now we save Bla—Sirius,” I responded. “Look, there’s Lupin now.”

“And Snape,” Hermione added. 

“So now we wait?” 

“Yes, Harry. Now we wait.” 

We spent a long time in the Shrieking Shack. We must have sat in the forest with Buckbeak for at least two hours before there were any signs of us exiting. We were in silence for most of it, since there wasn’t much to be said. 

While we sat there, my mind kept drifting to my mother. Why had Pettigrew chosen her? There were plenty of other Muggles he could have chosen, but he chose my mother. It just wasn’t fair, especially since he was practically getting off free. I wondered what I was going to tell my father. It might ease him to know who killed her, but it would probably anger him to find out that he had escaped…

“At least someone’s enjoying himself,” Hermione remarked, nodding towards Buckbeak, who was happily chewing on a ferret. 

“Yeah,” Harry said mindlessly. “Hey guys?”

“Yeah?”

“Before, down by the lake, when I was with Sirius, I saw someone. They made the dementors go away.”

“With a Patronus,” Hermione acknowledged. “I heard Snape telling Dumbledore when everyone was asleep. According to him, only a really powerful wizard could have conjured it.”

“It was my dad,” Harry disclosed. “My dad conjured the Patronus.” 

“Harry,” I began awkwardly, “your dad’s—”

“Dead, I know. I’m just telling you what I saw.” 

I fidgeted with the sleeve of my sweater. There was no possible way that Harry had seen his father. He was dead—and had been for thirteen years. But if he didn’t see his father, then who did he see? 

“Here we come,” Hermione announced. We stood up, and watched as we exited the Whomping Willow. 

“You see Sirius talking to me there?” Harry asked us. “He’s asking me to come live with him.”

“That’s great,” Hermione chirped. 

“When we free him, I’ll never have to go back to the Dursley’s. It’ll just be me and him. We could live in a house in the country—some place you can see the sky. I think he’ll like that after all those years in Azkaban.” 

“That sounds beautiful,” I chorused. “I could come visit you. We all could.”

Harry beamed. “I’d like that. I’d—”

“Harry!” At that exact moment, Lupin began his transformation. I heard our screams and his growls even from where we were standing. We ran closer to the edge of the forest, and saw Harry being cornered by a fully-transformed Lupin. Hermione cupped her hands around her mouth and let out a howl.

“What are you doing?” I shrieked. 

“Saving Harry’s life!” She howled again, and Lupin started running towards us.

“Great, now he’s coming for us!” 

“Yeah, I didn’t think about that. Run!” 

We sprinted through the forest, trying to escape the ferocious werewolf behind us. We ran as fast as we could manage, considering that the forest ground was full of obstacles. I tripped twice, and Harry nearly fell flat on his face. 

We took refuge behind a thick tree. I could hear Lupin snarling and look for us, and I prayed that he wouldn’t find us. As we started to back away from the tree, he found us and let out another howl. I ducked, expecting the worst. 

But the attack never came. Buckbeak charged at the werewolf, scaring him away. Harry, Hermione, and I panted in both fear and exhaustion. 

“That was scary,” Hermione said shakily. 

“Scary? That was terrifying!” I exclaimed. “It seems like I almost die every year!”

“Professor Lupin’s having a rough night,” Harry remarked dryly. 

A familiar chill came over us, and I shivered underneath my clothes. Harry paled. 

“Sirius! Come on!”

He grabbed Hermione and I, and led us deeper into the forest, stopping by a small pond. Across the pond lay Sirius Black and Harry, and they were both being attacked by dementors. 

“This is horrible,” Hermione choked as we watched the dementors attack. 

“Don’t worry,” Harry dismissed. “My dad will come. He’ll conjure the Patronus any minute now.”

“Harry, he’s not coming,” I whispered as more and more hooded figures approached. 

“Yes—”

“Harry, listen to us. Nobody’s coming,” Hermione said firmly. 

“He will! He will come!”

“You’re dying,” Hermione whimpered. “Both of you.”

“Harry—”

Harry rushed to the edge of the pond and pointed his wand at the mass of dementors.  _ “Expecto Patronum!” _

A big, beautiful blue stag shot out of the tip of Harry’s wand. It pranced across the pond and forced the dementors away. 

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “He did it! He did it! A real Patronus!” Hermione and I watched in awe as the stag saved Harry and Sirius. 

After they were safe, we ran back into the forest and climbed onto Buckbeak. We headed towards the tower where Dumbledore said he was being kept. 

Harry was thrilled with the excitement of his first corporeal Patronus. “You were right!” he ranted. “It wasn’t my dad I saw earlier! It was me! I saw myself performing the charm before! I knew I could do it this time because I had already done it! Does that make sense!”

I shouted “Yes!” while Hermione replied with “No!”

“I’m proud, Harry,” I complimented. “I knew you could do it.”

“I—I don’t like flying,” Hermione shrieked as Buckbeak dove down into the air. Within a few minutes, we were at the tower. 

_ “Bombarda!”  _ Hermione’s spell blasted the door open, revealing a rather pale Sirius. 

“We’re here!” Harry said excitedly. “We’re here to rescue you!”

Sirius grinned and pulled his godson into a tight hug. “I knew you could do it.”

The four of us squeezed onto Buckbeak, who wasn’t too pleased with the amount of people he had to carry. He flew us to a secluded corridor, and we hopped off. 

“I’ll be forever grateful for this,” Sirius praised. “All three of you. Thank you.”

“I want to go with you,” Harry blurted. 

Sirius smiled wanly. “One day, perhaps. For some time, my life will be too unprepared. And besides, you’re meant to be here. With your friends.”

“But you’re innocent.”

“And the right people know it. That’s all I need right now.” He patted Harry’s shoulder. “I know you’re probably together of hearing this, but you look just like your father. Except your eyes. You have—”

“It’s cruel that I spent so much time with James and Lily and you so little. But know this: the ones that love us never really leave us. We can always find them here.” He pointed to Harry’s heart and then turned to us. 

“You really are the brightest witch of your age, Hermione.” 

She grinned. “Thank you.”

“And Pepper?”

“Yeah?”

“Harry is incredibly lucky to have found you. You are a fierce and loyal friend. And you—well, you remind me a lot of somebody that I used to know.”

I felt my face flush. “Thank you, Sirius.”

“We have to go,” Hermione cut in. “The time.”

Harry hugged Sirius one last time, and we watched him fly off with Buckbeak. Once we couldn’t see him anymore, we sprinted through the corridors with only minutes to get to the Hospital Wing. 

“Hurry!” I cried. “Hermione, run faster!”

“I’m trying! I’m not athletic, okay?”

By some stroke of luck, we managed to get there exactly as Dumbledore closed the doors. 

“Well?”

“We did it!” I shouted, gasping for air after the dash. “He’s free. We did it.”

Dumbledore shot us a puzzled look. “Did what?” With a wink, he walked away. 

We strolled back into the infirmary, relieved to be done with such a tiring journey. Ron was still in bed, and his face twisted with confusion. 

“How did you get there?” he questioned. “I was just talking to you over there, and now you’re here!”

“What’s he talking about?” Hermione teased. Harry and I grinned as we shrugged our shoulders. 

“I dunno.”

“Honestly, Ron,” Harry laughed, “how could we be in two places at once?”

“But—you—here—there—what?”

I giggled. “Let me explain.”


	29. Carnation

_ I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush  _

After such a tiring ordeal, the four of us slept well into the afternoon, missing breakfast and half of lunch. After quickly eating our sandwiches, Harry and I decided to pay Professor Lupin a visit. 

I was shocked to see that his office was practically empty, and his trunk was full. It was almost as if he were leaving. 

“Hello Harry and Pepper,” he said before we entered the room. He looked up and smiled. “I saw you on the map.”

“You’ve been sacked,” I concluded. 

Lupin sighed. “Actually, I resigned.”

“Resigned? Why?” Harry pressed. 

“Well, it seems that somebody let the nature of my condition slip,” Lupin replied, stacking some books together. “This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving and parents will not want—well, someone like me teaching their children.”

“But Dumbledore—”

“Dumbledore has already risked enough on my behalf,” Lupin interrupted. “Besides, people like me are—well, let's just say that I'm used to it by now.”

I watched sadly as Lupin finished packing. I didn’t want him to go. He was truly the best teacher we had ever had, and a good person. To me, it didn’t matter what he was. What mattered was the type of person he was. But that clearly wasn’t the case for everybody else. 

“Why do you two look so miserable?” Lupin asked upon seeing our sad faces. 

“None of it made any difference,” I sulked. “Pettigrew escaped.”

“And everyone still thinks that Sirius is a criminal,” Harry added. 

“Didn't make any difference? Why, you two made all the difference in the world. You have uncovered the truth. You saved an innocent man from a terrible fate. It made a great deal of difference,” he insisted. “If I am proud of anything, it is of how much you have learned this year. Both of you.”

He handed Harry the Marauder’s Map that he had confiscated the night I had wandered the halls with Malfoy. “Now, since I am no longer your teacher, I feel no guilt whatsoever about giving this back to you.”

“Thank you,” Harry grinned. “I’ll use it well.”

“I know you will. I’ll see you again sometime. I know I will. Goodbye, Harry.” Lupin turned to me with a smile. “Could I speak to you for a moment, Pepper?”

“Sure. I’ll see you in the common room, Harry.”

“See you, Pepper.”

“I want you to know that I’m proud,” Lupin began once we were alone. “I know you haven’t been able to produce a corporeal Patronus—or much of one, really—but I want you to know that I’m proud. That charm is incredibly difficult. Most students your age wouldn’t even get the wisps.”

I smiled weakly. “Thank you. But actually, I managed to get a shield up the other day.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” He praised. He stopped once he noticed my stony expression. “Why aren’t you happy about it?”

“Well the thing is, the memory I used—well, let’s just say that I didn’t expect it to work.”

“Why not?”

“It involved—well, I just didn’t expect it to work.” 

Lupin raised an eyebrow. “So this was a shock, wasn’t it?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know what it means, though. It’s probably nothing, right?”

“I couldn't tell you,” he responded. “The only person who knows is you. You know the answer deep down.”

I shook my head. “I don’t though. I really don’t.” 

“I think you do, deep down. Maybe you don’t realize it yet, but you do know.” 

“It can’t be true,” I sighed. “It just doesn’t make sense.” 

“Not everything makes sense,” Lupin quipped. “Don’t hide from it, Pepper. You’re very brave. I know that whatever you do will be the right choice. For now, just feel happy that you’re one step closer to a Patronus.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“You don’t have to call me Professor anymore,” he smiled. 

“Don’t remind me,” I said sadly. “What if we get another nutter?”

“You won’t,” he laughed. “But even if you do, I know you’ll be fine. If there’s anything that you taught me, it’s that you can handle yourself pretty well. Goodbye, Pepper. Until we meet again.”

“Goodbye, Lupin. Thank you. For everything.”

He smiled sadly, his eyes twinkling with some sort of emotion I couldn’t quite place. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.”

∆ ∆ ∆

“I’ve decided to drop Muggle Studies,” Hermione announced once we were on the Hogwarts Express heading back home. 

“But you passed your exam with three hundred and twenty percent!” I exclaimed. “I’d kill for a grade like that!”

“I know,” Hermione sighed. “But I can’t stand another year like this one. That Time-Turner was driving me crazy. I’ve handed it in. Without Muggle Studies and Divination, I’ll be back to a normal schedule.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us,” Ron huffed. “We’re supposed to be your best friends.”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Hermione retorted. “Nobody could know.”

I watched as Harry stared outside the window sadly. 

“Oh, cheer up, Harry!” Hermione cried. 

“I’m okay,” Harry said quickly, even though we all knew it wasn’t the truth. “Just thinking about the holidays.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about them too,” Ron added. “Harry, you’ve got to come and stay with us. I’ll fix it up with Mum and Dad, then I’ll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now—”

“A  _ telephone _ , Ron,” Hermione corrected. “Honestly, you should take Muggle Studies.”

Ron ignored her as he continued. “It’s the Quidditch World Cup this summer! You should all come! Dad usually gets tickets from work.”

“The Quidditch World Cup? I’m so in,” I vocalized. 

“Me too,” Harry replied. “I bet my aunt and uncle will be pleased to let me come, especially after what I did to Aunt Marge.”

“And you can use your new godfather as leverage,” I pointed out. “They don’t know he’s not a real murderer.”

We played Exploding Snap until lunch. Our final game was interrupted by the appearance of an owl outside our compartment window. 

We let the owl in, and it immediately began zooming around our compartment. 

“It’s from Sirius!” Harry shouted. 

“Read it!” Ron exclaimed. 

_ “Dear Harry, _

_ I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I didn’t know whether they’re used to owl post.  _

_ “Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won’t tell you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job. I believe the dementors are still searching for me, but they haven’t a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted.  _

_ “There is something that I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt—” _

“Ha!” Hermione exclaimed. “I told you it was from him!”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t jinxed,” Ron cut in. 

_ “Please consider it as thirteen birthdays’ worth of presents from your godfather. I am enclosing something else for you, some which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable.  _

_ “If you ever need me, send word. Your owl will find me.” _

Harry shook the envelope eagerly and practically shouted with joy. “It’s a Hogsmeade permission slip! That’ll be good enough for Dumbledore!” He looked back at the letter and paused. “Hang on, there’s more.”

_ “I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it’s my fault he no longer has a rat.” _

“Keep him?” Ron asked uncertainly. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.”

He beamed. “Good enough for me. He’s mine.”

As Ron played with his new pet, I got the sudden craving for some sweets. I left the three alone and went to go find the trolley witch. 

“Peppermint Toads again?” Malfoy drawled as I paid for my candy. Much to my disgust, he was eating a bag of pistachios. 

“They are my favorite.” 

“But it’s not very healthy, is it?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s  _ candy _ , Malfoy.”

“You should opt for something healthier,” he continued. “Pistachio?”

I pretended to gag. “No thanks.”

“Come on,” he insisted. “At least try.”

“Nope.” 

“Don’t be stubborn, Peppermint. At least  _ try _ .”

“I—”

“Try.” 

I sighed loudly. “Fine. But I won’t like it.”

“Just eat it.” I took a single pistachio from his bag, cracked the shell open, popped the green nut into my mouth, and chewed. 

“Well?” he pressed. 

I was prepared to spit it out as soon as it entered my mouth, but to my great surprise, I found that I actually liked it. It wasn’t as salty as I thought it would be—in fact, it barely was. I found the pistachio to be sweet; only its shell was salty. 

“It’s good,” I said after a moment’s deliberation. 

He smirked. “Told you, Peppermint. I told you.”

I suppressed a smile. “Whatever, Malfoy.”

“ _ Malfoy?  _ Still with the Malfoy? You’re breaking my heart, Peppermint. I told you to call me Draco.”

“And I told you to stop calling me Mudblood,” I pointed out. 

“And I did! I haven’t called you Mudblood since the first term!” he emphasized. I opened my mouth to dispute his statement, but I realized that he was actually  _ right _ . I couldn’t remember the last time he had called me the foul term. In fact, the last person I remember calling me the horrid name was Blaise Zabini when I bumped into him in the corridor two weeks ago. 

“True,” I acknowledged. “But still.”

He frowned dramatically. “I—”

“Now that I’ve tried pistachios, maybe it’s time you tried peppermint,” I cut off, tossing him one of my Peppermint Toads. 

“No, I don’t—”

“Oh come on,” I encouraged. “You might like it, Draco.”

With a triumphant grin, Malfoy opened the package and took a bite of the red and white candy. After swallowing, he chuckled. 

“Well?” I echoed. 

“I hate to admit it, but—”

“I was right, wasn’t I?” 

“I s’pose you weren’t  _ wrong _ ,” he mumbled.

“Ha!” I gloated. “That’ll teach you that I’m never wrong!” 

“Unless it’s Divination.”

“Unless it’s Divination,” I agreed. 

“Or Charms. Or Transfiguration. Sometimes Herbology—”

“Hey, that’s not true!” 

“You know it is,” he insisted. “Don’t even try to deny it.” 

I started laughing, and he joined in. We laughed together for a few moments, before the laughter died down, leaving us in a tense, uncomfortable silence. I felt my face heat up, and I didn’t realize until that moment how hot it was. 

“So,” I began, clearing my throat. “I’ll be on my way.” 

He shrugged indifferently. “See you next year, Peppermint.”

“See you next year.” He paused for a moment. “Atkinson?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Green. They’re awfully green today.”

I nodded. “Good to know.”

“Figured you should know,” he shrugged. “I haven’t told you in a hot second.”

“God forbid that happens.”

“I know. You’re lucky to have me.” 

I smiled slightly and scoffed. “Whatever floats your boat.” 

“What’s wrong with you?” Ron asked as I sat back down in the compartment with my Peppermint Toad. “You’re all red.”

“Am I?” He nodded. “It must be the heat.” 

“Weird. Anyway, did you hear that Bulgaria’s expected to win? I think…”

The rest of the train ride was uneventful. I beat Ron in fifteen chess matches, and he only won twice. After his epic defeat, he had me teach him more methods which he claimed would help him beat Bighead Boy Percy, who was now studying chess books to beat Ron. 

“I can’t let him win. He needs to know that he’s not good at everything,” he insisted. “Teach me the hardest moves you know.”

I spent at least three hours teaching Ron the Sicilian Najdorf, which was one of Dad’s trickiest openings. I half-expected Ron to quit—since that’s what I had done the first time Dad had taught me—but he actually played the games until he got it perfectly. 

After hours of chess, I rested my head against the window and closed my eyes. When I woke up, we were already at the platform. I grabbed my trunk and Bruce, and rushed out of the train. I said goodbye to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and crossed the barrier. 

Dad looked slightly better than the last time I had seen him. His face was still skinny, but it had rounded out more. And the bags under his eyes weren’t as dark. He grinned as I ran towards him, dragging both Bruce and my trunk behind me. 

I told him all about the second half of the term. He was shocked to find out that Sirius was innocent, and that Lupin had been fired. 

“But just because he’s a werewolf? That’s wrong.”

“Tell me about it. But he says he’s used to it.”

“Some of these folk don’t seem very nice, Pep.”

“Some of them aren’t.”

“That reminds me!” he snapped. “What about that Malfoy kid? What ever happened to him?”

“Oh nothing much,” I lied, thinking about the complex events of the year. “Hermione punched him in the face though.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Now that’s a story I need to hear.”


	30. Amber

_ Ask me where I come from, I’ll say a different land  _

“Pepper!” I sat up groggily, woken by Ron’s shouting. 

“Pepper!” 

“In a second,” I mumbled, slowly climbing out of bed. I grabbed a random jumper off of the floor and yanked it over my head. 

“Pepper!” 

“Wait!” I shoved my feet into my slippers and started shuffling towards the door, careful not to wake Ginny.

“PEPPER!” 

“I’M COMING!” I shouted, swinging the door open. 

“SHUT UP RON!” Ginny roared, covering her ears with her pillow. “Some of us are trying to sleep!” 

I stumbled downstairs to the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley and Ron were bent over a piece of parchment. I had arrived at the Burrow last night for the Quidditch World Cup, and I had stayed up all night with Ginny, learning the gossip from the year under us. As I trudged towards the kitchen, Fred and George appeared behind me, equally as exhausted.

“I reckon Ronniekins woke up all of England,” Fred muttered as we reached the table. 

“Why’d you scream like that Ron?” George pressed. “We thought you were being murdered or something.” 

Ron raised an eyebrow. “So you thought I was being murdered, but you didn’t come to see if I was okay?” 

“We didn’t care that much,” Fred replied, sitting down next to George. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked. 

“Oh Pepper dear, sorry to wake you,” Mrs. Weasley apologized. “We just needed your help on this letter.” 

“Letter? To who?”

“To Harry!” Ron exclaimed. “Only, we have to send it the Muggle way. Do you know how?”

“Of course. What do you have so far?” 

“Well, we have the stamps on, but did we address it correctly?” Mrs. Weasley handed me an envelope that was covered with stamps except for one small square in the middle, where Harry’s address was printed in tiny handwriting. 

“Oh, um, you don’t need that many stamps,” I began. “Muggles only use one.” 

“Are you sure? We want to make sure it gets to him.”

“I’m sure.” Mrs. Weasley sighed and reached for a fresh envelope. “I suppose we’ll have to—”

“You don’t need to,” I cut in. “It’ll still work. In fact, I think Harry might like it better like this.” 

She beamed. “Wonderful. Well, I’ll give it to Arthur to mail when he goes to work. Wake the others, will you? It’s almost time for breakfast.” 

“Ginny’s going to be pissed,” I remarked as I went upstairs with Ron. “She’s not too pleased with you at the moment, Ron.”

“You go wake her up,” George told his brother. “Fred and I want to show Pepper something.” 

“Why me?” Ron whined. 

“Because you woke us all up in the first place. Now go.” Ron muttered angrily under his and cautiously made his way towards Ginny’s room. While Ginny screamed at Ron, I followed Fred and George up the stairs to their room. 

Their room could best be described as organized chaos. There were two piles of clothes on the floor—one for Fred and one for George—there wasn’t a book in sight, and there were boxes full of prank products. I flopped onto George’s bed while they pulled a large trunk out of their closet. 

“What did you want to show me?” I asked. 

“Prepare to be amazed,” Fred drawled as he opened the trunk. “George and I have been working very hard on this.” 

“On what?” 

“You’re going to love it Pepkins,” George continued. He reached into the trunk and deposited a singular toffee into my hand. “Ta-da!” 

“Toffee?” 

“Not just any toffee. It’s _Ton-Tongue Toffee._ ”

“Ton-Tongue what?” 

“Ton-Tongue Toffee,” he repeated. “Our latest invention.” 

“You invented this?” 

Fred nodded proudly. “Took us ages, but we did.”

“What does it do?” 

“It makes the tongue of whoever eats it grow to a ridiculously large size,” George cackled. 

“And how on earth did you manage to make it work?” 

“We used it on ourselves, of course. It was a lot of trial and error, but we think we’ve perfected it.”

“Let me guess. You want to try it out on me?” I guessed. 

“Oh no,” Fred clarified. “It’s much more fun when the victim doesn’t suspect it.” 

“Victim? Who are we going to try it out on?” 

“Well, you’ve been writing to Harry, right?” 

I nodded. “Of course.”

“He told you all about his cousin Dudley’s diet?” 

I snorted. “Yeah. We all sent him snacks, remember?”

“We remember. Now obviously, Dudley isn’t getting any of those snacks. And it would be a shame if we were to drop the toffee when we went to go pick up Harry on Sunday…” 

“What a great idea!” I exclaimed mischievously. “God knows that he deserves it.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” George added. “Don’t tell Mum. She already found our order forms, and she’d murder us if she found out we were still working on it.” 

“My lips are sealed,” I promised. “Is that all you’ve invented?” 

“Nope. We’ve got a few more tricks up our sleeves.”

I grinned. “Need any help?” 

After a rather dreadful breakfast—Percy would not stop talking about his new job at the Ministry—I went back upstairs with the twins. We spent hours tweaking their products  _ and  _ devising new ones, resolving to test them on Percy or other Hogwarts students. Ginny and Ron loved the idea of the sweets, and were in favor of it. After hours of brainstorming, we played a Quidditch scrimmage in the backyard, which we lost due to the unfair combination of Ginny and George. 

Hermione arrived at the Burrow the next day, and she wasn’t too fond of the whole pranking thing either. She was, however, thrilled to hear all about Percy’s Ministry adventures, even if it meant listening about reports on trade between two countries. And Percy was ecstatic to speak to someone who ‘truly understood the importance of his work’. 

That same day, Ron’s older brothers Charlie and Bill arrived. Bill was the eldest, and he worked as a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts. Bill was the definition of cool—he had long hair tied back into a ponytail, a fang-shaped earring, and wore surprisingly modern Muggle clothing. 

“You must be Pepper,” he said coolly. “I’m Bill. Ron, Fred, and George talk about you all the time. I heard you and Harry both made the Quidditch team as first years. That’s pretty impressive.”

I smiled genuinely. “Thank you. I’m pretty excited to see the match. I’ve never been to a real game before.”

“Never? Well, you’re going to love it. There’s nothing like your first Quidditch match.”

“Who’s talking about Quidditch?” Charlie asked, walking towards us. Charlie was two years younger than Bill and according to Ron, he worked in Romania with dragons. He was one of Gryffindor’s greatest Quidditch players too. “Oh, Charlie Weasley. Nice to meet you—uh—?”

“Pepper,” I finished. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Oh you’re the youngest Chaser!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “Oliver told me all about you and Harry. Heard you two make quite the team. Excited for the match?”

“She’s never been to a real match before,” Bill piped up. 

“Really? Never? Merlin, you’re going to love this then…”

Like the rest of the Weasleys, Bill and Charlie were fun to be around. We spent at least thirty minutes talking about Quidditch, and they told me all about the games they had been to. 

“We’ll have to do one big game once Harry gets here,” Charlie remarked. “Let’s see just how good you two are.”

Dinner was delicious as usual. Thankfully, Hermione sat next to Percy, so I was spared from his Ministry talk for now. 

“Don’t forget,” Mr. Weasley began, spooning himself some mashed potatoes, “we’re picking up Harry tomorrow, Ron. I’ve got to get their Floo set up, but once it’s ready, we’ll be on our way.”

Ron nodded, his mouth too full of chicken to answer verbally. 

“Can we come?” George asked. 

“Me too?” I questioned. 

“The more the merrier!” Mr. Weasley beamed. “But be in the living room by five, okay? We can’t be late.”

But we were late. It took an extraordinarily long time for the Floo Network to connect since Harry lived in a Muggle home. 

“I can’t believe it!” Mr. Weasley muttered. “What in Merlin’s name is taking them so long?”

While Mr. Weasley traveled to the Ministry to sort everything out, Fred, George, and I busied ourselves on the couch, perfecting our plan to test our sweets out on Dudley. Ron decided to take a quick nap before we left, and passed out on the armchair 

“So I’ll just drop them,” Fred began. “I’ll drop them on the floor where he can see it and pick them all up except for one.”

“We’ll try to stick around to see,” George continued. “But if we can’t, then we’ll go. Otherwise, it’ll be suspicious and they’ll know it was us.”

“And we know absolutely nothing. We have no idea how Dudley’s tongue grew,” I finished. 

“Perfect,” Fred cackled. “Now I have four toffees in my pocket. That should be enough, right?”

“I reckon so,” George quipped. “Paprika and I have backups if needed.”

After nearly thirty minutes, Mr. Weasley came back to the Burrow looking thoroughly frustrated. “It’s ready. Come on, come on, we’re late. Pepper, you first.”

I scooped some powder out of the flower pot and stepped into the fireplace. 

“The address is 4 Privet Drive,” Mr. Weasley reminded me. 

I nodded and dropped the powder onto the ground. “4 Privet Drive!”

With a (rather sickening) twist, I was transported to the Dursley residence. But as soon as I landed, I knew something was wrong. I wasn’t standing on their living room carpet or even in their fireplace. Instead, I was sprawled across a barrier. The Dursleys had their chimney blocked. There was a high-pitched scream—which must have belonged to Aunt Petunia—and I heard another crack, and I knew that someone else was on their way. 

“Ouch! No, Fred, go back!” I hissed as he sat on me. 

“I can’t go back! What happened?” 

“Their fireplace—OUCH!  _ George! _ ”

“What the bloody hell is going on?” George groaned. 

“You need to go back! Their fireplace is blocked,” I explained quickly. “And you’re both—”

“Merlin!”

“RON!” I shrieked. “You’re crushing me!”

“Maybe Harry can hear us,” Ron said hopefully. “HARRY! HARRY!”

“Can you hear me?” Harry asked us just as Mr. Weasley landed on top of Ron. 

“Yes!” I cried. “Please—help—!”

“The fireplace is blocked,” Harry replied. “You won’t be able to get through.”

“Why would they block a fireplace?” Mr. Weasley questioned curiously. 

“They have an electric fire.”

“Really? Electricity? With a plug? How fascinating! I—”

“We’re crushing Pepper, Dad,” Ron pointed out. 

“Oh yes. Stand back Harry!”

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” a scruffy voice demanded. Mr. Weasley paid no attention to him as he exploded the barrier, throwing us into the living room. A thin woman and a large man stood before us with horrified expressions on their faces. 

“Thank—God—!” I sputtered. “I—couldn’t—breathe!”

The five of us stood up and dusted ourselves off. 

“So,” Mr. Weasley began, clearing his throat. “You must be Harry’s aunt and uncle.”

Mr. Weasley offered a hand which none of them took. Petunia crossed her arms over her body and Vernon looked like he was going into shock. 

“Sorry about your fireplace,” Mr. Weasley rambled. “We didn’t expect it to do that. Took quite a bit of time to hook it up to the Floo Network, you know. But I’ve got a useful contact at the Ministry who helped me. I’m sure that he would be more than happy to—”

“Who are you?” Petunia shrieked, pointing an accusatory bony finger at me. 

“Me?” I questioned. “I’m Pepper Atkinson.” 

“Pep—Pepper?” 

I nodded. 

“You’re not one of the redheads, are you? What are you doing in my house?” she demanded, practically shaking with rage. 

“Picking Harry up. I’m with the Weasleys—I’m their guest,” I explained. 

She took a few steps back, seemingly terrified. “I—I don’t need any more  _ freaks _ in my house! You—you—”

“Let’s be calm,” Mr. Weasley started, but I cut him off. “We—” 

“I’m not a freak. I’m a  _ witch, _ ” I corrected sharply. “And I have no idea why you’re being this rude—I’ve done absolutely nothing to you. Now if you like, I’d be more than happy to show you what I learned in Charms last year—”

Mr. Weasley laughed nervously and patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. “She’s just joking.” 

“I’m not,” I replied flatly. 

“I don’t believe it!” Petunia cried. “I don’t believe it! Exactly like—”

“Do you have your trunk ready, Harry?” Mr. Weasley interrupted. 

“It’s upstairs.”

“We’ll get it,” Fred quipped. He and George stalked upstairs, knowing exactly where Harry’s room was because of last year’s rescue mission. 

Ron, Mr. Weasley, and I all waited in the living room. 

“Er—nice house you’ve got here,” he complimented. Nobody said anything. I noticed Mr. Weasley studying the television intently, itching to go and examine it. 

“They run off eckletricity, don’t they? I can see the plugs. I collect them, you know.” 

Vernon was turning a bright shade of red, and Petunia was still trembling from our squabble. 

Dudley appeared before they could answer. He walked into the room slowly, terrified at our presence. He eyed us with fear in his eyes, and tried to hide behind his father, who was much too thin to hide his enormous width. 

“Is that your cousin Harry?” Mr. Weasley asked just as Fred and George were heard dragging Harry’s trunk down the stairs.

Harry nodded. “That’s Dudley.” 

Ron, Harry, and I exchanged glances and then quickly looked away, fearing that Petunia would gut us if I laughed at her precious son, who was gripping his bottom so tightly I thought he had to use the bathroom. Mr. Weasley looked genuinely concerned at Dudley’s behavior and frowned. 

“Having a good holiday, Dudley?” 

Dudley whimpered and cowered behind his father. Fred and George entered the living room with Harry’s trunk, and Mr. Weasley let out a sigh of relief. 

“We best be on our way,” he said quickly. He turned to the fireplace and pointed his wand at it. “Off you go, Fred.” 

“Coming,” he began. “Oh no—hang on—”

Just as we had discussed, he dropped the toffees on the floor, leaving only one in Dudley’s line of sight. He then took a small bag from his father and scooped out a handful of powder. All three Dursleys let out a scream as he was engulfed in the green flames.

“George, you and the trunk.” George grinned at the Dursleys and disappeared in the flames. 

“I think you should go with Harry,” Mr. Weasley said to me after Ron left. “Considering what happened last time…” 

I nodded. “Come on, Hazza.” 

“Well… bye then,” he said to the Dursleys. They didn’t say anything at all, which didn’t seem to bother Harry. He started to walk towards the fireplace until Mr. Weasley put a hand out and stopped him. 

“Harry said goodbye to you. Didn’t you hear him?” he questioned. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry muttered. “Honestly, I don’t care.”

“You aren’t going to see your nephew until next summer,” he continued. “Surely you’re going to say goodbye?” 

Vernon’s face turned redder, which gave him the appearance of a firetruck. He turned to face Harry. 

“Goodbye,” he spat rather resentfully.

“See you.” We started walking towards the fireplace again, but we didn’t get very far. Petunia let out a blood-curdling scream, and we turned to see Dudley with a foot-long slimy purple tongue. He had eaten the toffee. 

Petunia desperately yanked at her son’s tongue like she was trying to remove it. Dudley screamed and tried to fight her off, and Vernon was bellowing and waving his arms around frantically. 

“Not to worry! I can sort him out!” Arthur announced, running towards Dudley with his wand outstretched. Petunia screamed even louder, and threw herself in front of Dudley, shielding him from Mr. Weasley. 

“No, really! It’s a simple process!” he insisted. “My sons—they’re practical jokers—but it’s only an Engorgement Charm—at least, I think it is—please, I can help—”

Petunia continued to attack Dudley’s tongue, which was at least two feet long. Vernon threw a china figure at Mr. Weasley, who finally lost his cool demeanor. 

“Now really! I’m trying to  _ help! _ ”

As Vernon picked up another ornament, Mr. Weasley turned to us. 

“Go! Just go! I’ll sort this out!” 

Harry and I rushed to the fireplace, watching the scene in front of us fade as we made our way to the Burrow. 

“Did he eat it?” Fred pressed as soon as we arrived at the Burrow.

“Yeah!” I chirped. “Oh, you should’ve seen it! It was priceless!” 

“What was it?” Harry asked, wiping his glasses clean.

“Ton-Tongue Toffee,” George stated proudly. “Fred and I invented them, and we’ve been looking for a real test subject all summer!” 

“Tell us, what did it look like?” 

“Well—”

At that moment, both Charlie and Bill came downstairs. But before they could say anything, Mr. Weasley arrived at the Burrow, looking angrier than I had ever seen him. 

“That wasn’t funny, Fred!” he shouted. “What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?”

“I didn’t give him anything,” Fred replied with a mischievous smile. “I just  _ dropped  _ it. It’s not my fault he ate it—”

“You dropped it on purpose!” Mr. Weasley bellowed. “You knew he was on a diet, you knew he’d eat it—”

“How long did his tongue get?” George cut in. 

“It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!” 

The entire kitchen roared with laughter. 

“It isn’t funny!” he continued. “That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard-Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons—”

“We didn’t give it to him because he’s a Muggle,” I interrupted. “We gave it to him because he was bullying Harry!”

“And you forced Pepper to help? How dare you!” 

“No, Mr. Weasley, they didn’t force me—”

“It’s okay, Pepper. You’re not in trouble. It’s not your fault they brainwashed you.”

“Pepper’s right,” Harry added hastily. 

“That’s not the point! Just wait until I tell your mother—”

“Tell me what?” Mrs. Weasley demanded, strolling into the kitchen. Both Fred and George instantly paled. 

“Oh hello, Harry, dear,” she smiled. “Tell me  _ what _ , Arthur?” 

Mr. Weasley hesitated. I could tell that he really was angry with Fred and George, but he clearly hadn’t intended to tell Mrs. Weasley what they—what  _ we _ —had done. As Mr. Weasley tried to structure a sentence, Hermione and Ginny waltzed into the kitchen silently greeting us as they watched the commotion. 

“Tell me  _ what,  _ Arthur?” 

“It’s nothing, Molly,” Mr. Weasley mumbled. “Fred and George just—”

“And Pepper,” I added. 

“No—they just—I’ve talked to them—”

“What have they done this time?” she inquired. “If it’s got anything to do with Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes—and to force Pepper—”

“They didn’t force me—”

“Why don’t you show Harry where he’s sleeping, Ron?” Hermione asked from the doorway. 

“He knows where he’s sleeping,” Ron remarked, not catching Hermione’s hint. “In my room—”

“We can  _ all  _ go,” Hermione insisted.

“Great idea,” George commented.

_ “You stay where you are!” _ Mrs. Weasley snarled. She turned to me with a smile. “Not you, Pepper. You can go.”

Fred and George motioned for me to leave, so I followed everybody else upstairs. 

“What are Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes?” Harry asked.

Ron, Ginny, and I laughed while Hermione pursed her lips disapprovingly. 

“Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George’s room,” Ron explained. “Lists of stuff that they’ve invented—joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets—loads of sweets. I never knew they were inventing all that…”

“We’ve been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually making things,” Ginny added. “We just thought they liked the noise.” 

“I’ve been helping them create stuff,” I interjected. “It’s loads of fun.” 

“But most of the stuff is a bit dangerous,” Ron informed Harry. “They were planning to make money by selling it at Hogwarts, and Mum went mad at them. She told them they weren’t allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms. She’s furious at them anyway, since they didn’t get as many O.W.L.s as she expected.”

“And then there was this big row,” Ginny continued, “because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke shop.” 

A door then swung open, and a very annoyed Percy faced us.

“Hi, Percy,” Harry greeted politely. 

“Oh hello, Harry. I was wondering who was making all the noise. I’m trying to work here, you know—I’ve got a report to finish for the office—and it’s rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs.” 

“We’re not  _ thundering _ ,” Ron retorted. “We’re walking. Sorry if we’ve disturbed the top-secret workings of the Ministry of Magic.” 

“What are you working on?” Harry asked before we could warn him. 

“A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation,” he announced smugly. “We're trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these Foreign imports are just a shade too thin—leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year—”

“That'll change the world, that report will,” Ron murmured. “Front page of the Daily Prophet, I expect, cauldron leaks.” 

Percy went pink. “You might sneer, Ron,But unless some sort of international laws imposed we might as well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow-bottom products that seriously endanger—”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Percy slammed his bedroom door shut, and we continued up the stairs to Ron's room. 

“Shut up, Pig,” Ron growled to his owl as we entered his room. Ron's room was nearly the same as it was last year but this time, there were four beds squeezed into the room. “Fred and George were in here with us, because Bill and Charlie are in their room,” he explained. “Percy gets to keep his room all to himself because he's got to work.”

“Er—why are you calling the owl Pig?” Harry questioned. 

“Because he's being stupid,” Ginny answered. “Its proper name is Pigwidgeon.” 

“Ginny named him,” Ron said to Harry. “She reckons it’s sweet. And I tried to change it, but it was too late. He won’t answer to anything else. So now he’s big. I’ve got to keep him up here because he annoys Errol and Hermes. He annoys me too, if I’m being honest.” 

“Speaking of pets, where’s Crookshanks?” Harry asked. “And Bruce?”

“Out in the garden, I expect,” Hermione replied. “He likes chasing gnomes. He’s never seen them before.”

“And Bruce is in the kitchen. He likes it there,” I answered. “Anyway, how was your summer?”

“Better with the snacks you all sent. They saved my life!” 

“And have you heard from—?” Ron began, but paused at Hermione’s glare. We were all worried about Sirius, but Ginny didn’t know that he was innocent, so talking about him was a bad idea. 

“I think they’ve stopped arguing,” I cut in. “We should go help with dinner.”

The five of us walked downstairs where Mrs. Weasley put us straight to work.

“We’re eating out in the garden,” Mrs. Weasley informed us. “There’s just no room for twelve people in here. Could you take the plates outside, girls? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Boys, the cutlery?” 

Hermione, Ginny, and I carried stacks of plates outside while Mrs. Weasley muttered angrily to herself. There was a very loud crashing sound, and we found Bill and Charlie levitating the tables and pitting them against each other. 

“My money’s on Bill,” Fred told us. 

“Nah, it’ll be Charlie,” George countered. “GO CHARLIE!” 

Ginny and I burst into laughter while Hermione seemed torn between amusement and anxiety. Harry and Ron joined us shortly after, and we watched as they battled it out. Bill’s table caught Charlie’s with a bang and knocked one of its legs off, causing us to cheer louder. 

“Will you keep it down?” Percy bellowed, sticking his head out of his bedroom window. 

“Sorry, Perce,” Bill grinned. “How are the cauldron bottoms coming on?”

“Very badly!” he yelled, slamming the window shut. After his outburst, Bill and Charlie put the tables down, and we busied ourselves with setting the table. 

Dinner was, like always, delicious. The table buzzed with chatter about Percy’s new job, the Quidditch Cup, and Ministry officials. 

“I’ve told Mr. Crouch that I’ll have it ready by Tuesday,” Percy explained, talking about his report for the umpteenth time. “That’s a bit sooner than he expected it, but I like to keep on top of things. I think he’ll be grateful I’ve done it in good time, I mean, it’s extremely busy in our department just now, what with all the arrangements for the World Cup. We’re just not getting the support we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ludo Bagman—”

“I like Ludo,” Mr. Weasley interjected. “He was the one who got us such good tickets for the Cup. I did him a bit of a favor, you know. His brother, Otto, got into a spot of trouble—a lawnmower with un- natural powers—I smoothed the whole thing over.”

“Oh Bagman’s likable enough, of course,” Percy dismissed, “but how he ever got to be Head of Department is beyond me. I can’t see Mr. Crouch losing a member of our department and not trying to find out what’s happened to them. You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? She went on holiday to Albania and never came back.”

“Yes, I was asking Ludo about that. He says Bertha’s gotten lost plenty of times before now—though I must say, if it was someone in my department, I’d be worried.”

“Oh Bertha’s hopeless, all right. I hear she’s been shunted from department to department for years, much more trouble than she’s worth, but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her. Mr. Crouch has been taking a personal interest—she worked in our department at one time, you know—and I think Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her, but Bagman just keeps laughing and saying she probably misread the map and ended up in Australia instead of Albania. However, we’ve got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. As you know, we’ve got another big event to organize right after the World Cup.”

Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked towards us. “You know the one I’m talking about, Father. The top-secret one.”

Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, “He’s been trying to get us to ask what that event is ever since he started work. Probably an exhibition of thick-bottomed cauldrons.”

“He needs to shut up,” I whispered. “I’m glad he’s happy about his job, but if I hear about the cauldrons one more time, I think I’ll turn into one.”

“Really, Bill, what do they say at the bank?” Mrs. Weasley pressed loudly. She had been pestering Bill about his look practically the entire meal. 

“Mum, no one at the bank gives a damn how I dress as long as I bring home plenty of treasure,” he replied calmly. 

“And your hair’s getting silly, dear. I wish you’d let me give it a trim.”

“I like it,” Ginny cut in. “You’re so old- 

fashioned, Mum. Anyway, it’s nowhere near as long as Professor Dumbledore’s.”

“But it looks untidy!”

“I think it’s modern,” I inputted, and Bill threw a wink my way. 

“It’s got to be Ireland,” Charlie said loudly from the opposite end of the table, causing me to turn around. “They flattened Peru in the semifinals.”

“Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though,” Fred reminded him. 

“Krum’s one decent player, Ireland has got seven,” Charlie insisted. “I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was.”

“What happened?” Harry asked eagerly, enjoying his first real meal all summer. 

“Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten,” Charlie answered gloomily. “Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg.”

Dessert was a delicious homemade strawberry ice cream that we enjoyed as the day turned into night. The adults then became absorbed in the fascinating subject of work, and we took this opportunity to talk about Sirius. 

“Have you heard from Sirius lately?” Ron asked. “Yeah. Twice. He sounds okay. I wrote to him yesterday. He might write back while I’m here,” Harry replied. 

“Do you know where he is? And how’s Buckbeak?” I questioned. 

“I don’t know where they are. He doesn’t tell me in case the letters get intercepted. But they’re somewhere warm, I think. Buckbeak is pretty happy.”

“Look at the time,” Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, checking her wristwatch. “You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you—you’ll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your school list out, I’ll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley—I’m getting everyone else’s. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time.”

My jaw dropped. “ _ Five days? _ I hope it lasts five days!”

“Well, I certainly don’t,” Percy cut in. “I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days.”

“Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?” Fred teased, earning snickers from our side of the table. 

“That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!” Percy exclaimed, turning beet-red. “It was nothing personal!”

“It was,” Fred whispered to us as we got up from the table. “We sent it.”

“Of course you did.”

“I can’t wait for the Cup!” Ginny said enthusiastically, flopping onto her bed. “Who do you think is going to win?”

“Ireland,” I answered confidently while Hermione shrugged. “Definitely Ireland.”

“What about Krum?”

“What about him? Charlie’s right. He’s only one good player.”

“But he’s the greatest player!”

“I think that’s a matter of opinion,” Hermione said as she stacked her books neatly. 

“Anyway, we should go to bed,” Ginny stated. 

“Are you okay Ginny?  _ You _ want to go to bed?” I teased. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. “You’ll thank me tomorrow, Pepper.”


	31. Shamrock

_ Yeah, the picture’s there but it’s not quite focused  _

Ginny turned out to be right. It felt like no more than five minutes after I closed my eyes that I was being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley. 

I sat up and it was still  _ dark  _ outside. Ginny groaned as her mother woke her up, and Hermione was already picking out her clothes. Ginny and I dressed in silence, too sleepy to talk, but someone seemed to have given Hermione a pot of coffee because she would not stop talking. 

“You two are  _ not _ morning people, are you?” she asked as she tied her shoes. 

“I’m a morning person when the sun’s up,” I grumbled.

We trudged downstairs where Harry, Ron, Fred, and George were already sitting at the table with large bowls of porridge. 

“Why do we have to be up so early?” Ginny whined, taking a seat next to Harry. 

“We’ve got a bit of a walk,” Mr. Weasley replied. 

“Walk?” Harry questioned. “We’re walking to the World Cup?” 

“No, that's miles away. We only need to walk a short way. It’s just that it’s very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggles. We have to be very careful about how we travel, and with an event like this—”

_ “George!”  _

“What?” George asked innocently. 

“What’s that in your pocket?”

“Nothing,” he lied.

“Don’t you lie to me!  _ Accio! _ ” Several Ton-Tongue Toffees zoomed out of George’s pocket and right into Mrs. Weasley’s hand. 

“We told you to destroy them! Empty your pockets!” she ordered. We all watched as Fred and George handed over loads of toffees. But Mrs. Weasley didn’t believe them when they claimed to be finished. Using a Summoning Charm, she managed to wheedle the ones that were hiding in rather inconspicuous places. 

“We spent six months developing those!” Fred exclaimed angrily. 

“Oh a fine way to spend six months!” she shrieked. “No wonder you didn’t get more O.W.L.s!” 

The house was tense as we departed for the Quidditch World Cup. Mrs. Weasley was furious, but nowhere near as much as Fred and George, who left without saying goodbye to their mother. 

Once we were well out of Mrs. Weasley’s earshot, I ran up to the twins, who were fuming.

“She just doesn’t understand!” George growled. “Why can’t she be more supportive?” 

“She just wants us to turn out like  _ Perfect Percy _ ,” Fred added. “Six months of hard work ruined!” 

“That’s not true,” I cut in. 

“She took all of them, Pepper. We don’t have any left.”

“Except for the ones from yesterday.” I made sure nobody was looking, and showed them the sweets tucked underneath my pajamas. Both of their faces lit up at the sight of the toffees. “They were the backups for yesterday’s prank, remember? You can copy these?” 

Both boys wrapped their arms around me tightly. “Have we ever told you how much we love you?” 

I grinned. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I expect a special sweet named after me when you open your joke shop.” 

We walked for what seemed like ages. Just as I thought my legs were going to fall off, Mr. Weasley stopped. 

“Now we just need the Portkey. It won’t be big. Start looking!” 

“What are we looking  _ for? _ ” I asked Fred and George. 

“Something random. Like a—”

“Over here, Arthur!” an unfamiliar voice interrupted. “We’ve got it!” 

“Amos!” Mr. Weasley boomed happily, walking towards two tall figures. “This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. and I think you know his son, Cedric?”

Hermione, Ginny, and I exchanged glances as we stared at Cedric. Cedric was a very handsome Hufflepuff boy who was the Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

“Hi,” Cedric greeted with a smile. Everybody said hi back except for Fred and George—they still hadn't gotten over the fact that Hufflepuff had beaten Gryffindor in one of last year’s Quidditch matches. 

“Long walk, Arthur?” Amos asked politely. 

“Not too bad. We just like on the other side of the village. You?” Mr. Weasley replied. 

“We had to get up at two. But we wouldn’t miss it for anything,” he sighed, eyeing the herd of people behind Mr. Weasley. “Are these all yours, Arthur?”

“Oh no, only the redheads. Hermione’s a friend of Ron’s—so is Pepper, but she’s also rather close with Fred and George—oh, and Harry—” 

“Merlin’s beard!” Amos gasped. “Harry  _ Potter? _ ” 

“Er—yeah,” Harry murmured awkwardly. 

“Ced’s talked about you, of course,” he continued. “He told us all about playing against you last year. I said to him, I said—Ced, that’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, that you beat Harry Potter!” 

Harry seemed uncomfortable with Amos’s remark and said nothing. Fred and George scowled, but Cedric looked slightly embarrassed. 

“Harry fell off his broom, Dad,” he muttered. “I told you it was an accident.”

“Yes, but  _ you _ didn’t fall off, did you?” Amos grinned. “Always modest, our Ced, always the gentlemen—but the best man won. I’m sure Harry would say the same, wouldn’t you, Harry? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don’t need a genius to tell which one’s the better flier!” 

“True,” I stated as calmly as I could. “And nobody’s denying that Cedric’s a good Seeker, but he wasn’t attacked by dementors, now was he?”

“It’s nearly time!” Mr. Weasley cut in nervously. “We better get going.”

Amos nodded and dropped a dirty old boot on the floor. Everyone except for Hermione, Harry, and I gathered around it. 

“Uh, what are we doing?” I asked. “Why are you touching that boot?”

“It’s not just a boot,” Fred explained. “It’s a Portkey.”

“What’s a Portkey?” Harry questioned. 

“Gather around!” Mr. Weasley shouted, placing a finger on the boot. “Hurry! Just put a finger on the boot!” 

We scrambled to touch the boot and as soon as we did, it felt like I was being jerked forward. The boot somehow managed to spin us around at a tremendous speed, and I felt like vomiting Mrs. Weasley’s porridge. 

“Let go!” Mr. Weasley told us.

_ “What?”  _ we hissed.

“Let go!” 

I hesitantly let go of the boot and felt myself falling through the air. I landed on the floor, my head spinning from the Portkey. I turned to see that Hermione, Harry, and the Weasleys were in the same shape. The same could not be said for Mr. Weasley, Amos, and Cedric though. They walked to the ground gracefully, completely unaffected by the Portkey. 

Mr. Weasley let out a hearty chuckle. “I bet that cleared out your sinuses.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

Once Harry, Hermione, and I set up the tent—Mr. Weasley insisted on doing it the Muggle way—the four of us were sent by Mr. Weasley to retrieve a bucket of water. By now, the sun had risen, and I was in a much better mood. Other people started to wake up, walking out of their tents and chatting with their neighbors. I watched little children chasing each other with toy broomsticks, and giggled at the sight of some people’s Muggle clothing choices. I even saw a handful of students from other schools, a flurry of different languages floating through the air. 

“Is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?” Ron asked as we got deeper into the cluster of tents. It wasn’t just his eyes. The tents in this area were all covered with green shamrocks, obviously in support of Ireland.

“Harry! Ron! Pepper! Hermione!” The four of us turned to see Dean and Seamus waving at us from their own green tent. “Like the decorations? The Ministry’s not too happy.”

“Why shouldn’t we show our colors?” said a woman who had to be Seamus’s mother. “You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents.” She paused and eyed us warily. “You will be supporting Ireland, of course?” 

“Of course,” I replied quickly. “Irish all the way!” 

“Like we’d say anything else surrounded by that lot,” Ron murmured as soon as we were out of earshot. 

“I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling over their tents?” Hermione wondered. 

“Let’s go see.”

The tents were a mix of white, green, and red in honor of the Bulgarian flag, but they all had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a surly-looking wizard. 

“Krum,” Ron stated. 

“What?” Hermione questioned. 

“Krum! Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!” Ron shouted.

“He looks really grumpy.”

“ _ Really grumpy? _ Who cares what he looks like? He’s unbelievable—really young, too, only just eighteen or something. He’s a genius—you’ll see tonight.” 

By the time we arrived at the tap, there was already a line. We had no choice but to join it, and we were stuck behind a man wearing a flowery nightgown. He argued with a Ministry wizard, claiming that the gown was a staple in Muggle men’s clothing.

Once we got the water, we started to trudge back to the tent. Halfway there, we saw Oliver Wood, who had recently graduated from Hogwarts. He introduced us to his parents, and informed us that he had just been signed to Puddlemere United’s reserve team. 

“I’m really going to miss him,” I sighed as we continued walking. “Do you think our next captain will be as passionate?”

“I dunno. Probably not, I mean—” Harry trailed off, and I followed his gaze to a nearby tent, where Cho Chang stood. She waved to Harry, and he spilled a great deal of water onto the front of his shirt in response. 

“Careful, Harry!” I exclaimed as Ron snickered. 

“Who are they?” Harry asked, pointing to a group of teenagers in an attempt to change the subject. “They don’t go to Hogwarts, do they?”

“They probably go to a foreign school,” Ron replied. Harry seemed surprised at the fact that there were different wizarding schools, but I wasn’t too surprised. After all, there were other countries in the world with wizards and witches. 

“You’ve been ages,” George remarked once we returned with the water. “What took you so long?” 

“We met a few people,” Ron answered. “Have you gotten the fire started yet?” 

“Dad’s having fun with the matches,” Fred chuckled. Once we turned our attention to the fire, where there were loads of broken matches on the floor. This didn’t seem to faze Mr. Weasley though—he seemed to be having a great deal of fun. 

“Let me help you, Mr. Weasley,” I interjected. It took about ten minutes, but I managed to teach Mr. Weasley how to properly light a match. 

Once the fire was lit, we had to wait a while before it was hot enough to cook anything. While we waited, we all decided to play a few games of chess, most of which were won by Ron, who had gotten better after learning more of my father’s techniques. 

Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived by lunchtime. Halfway through our meal, a tall, eccentrically dressed man stopped by our tent. 

“Ludo!” Mr. Weasley greeted. 

“Ludo?” I questioned. 

“Bagman,” Ron whispered. “Head of Magical Games and Sports.”

“Arthur! What a day, huh?” Ludo chirped. “Could we have asked for more perfect weather?”

Percy sprang from his seat and ran to greet Ludo. Apparently, his disapproval of the way he ran his department did not prevent him from trying to make a good impression. 

“This is my son Percy. He’s just started at the Ministry,” Mr. Weasley began. “And this is Fred—no, George, sorry—that’s Fred—Bill, Charlie, Ron—my daughter Ginny—and Ron’s friends, Hermione Granger, Pepper Atkinson, and Harry Potter.” Ludo flashed us all a large smile. “Everyone, this is Ludo Bagman. It’s thanks to him that we’ve got such good tickets.”

Ludo smiled again and pulled out a sack of gold coins. “Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur? I’ve got Roddy Pontner betting on Bulgaria, and Agatha Timms put up half shares on her eel farm on a week-long match.” 

“Oh, okay,” Mr. Weasley said hesitantly. “A Galleon on Ireland to win?” 

Ludo seemed rather disappointed at the small sum of money, but continued anyway. “Any other takers?” 

“They’re a bit young to be gambling,” Mr. Weasley chuckled, glancing at the rest of us. “Molly wouldn’t like—”

“We’ll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, and three Knuts that Ireland wins,” Fred interrupted as he and George pooled their money together. “But Viktor Krum gets the Snitch.”

“And we’ll throw in a fake wand!” George added eagerly.

“Don’t show Mr. Bagman rubbish like that!” Percy hissed, his face twisting with frustration. 

But Ludo  _ loved _ the fake wand. He roared with laughter as the wand turned into a rubber chicken. “Excellent! I haven’t seen one that convincing in years! I’d pay five Galleons for that!” 

Fred and George threw smug looks at a stunned Percy. 

“Boys, I don’t want you betting. That’s all your savings. Your mother—”

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Arthur!” Ludo boomed. “They’re old enough to know what they want!”

“More like he knows he wants the money,” I muttered to Ron, who snorted in response.

“You reckon Ireland will win but Krum will get the Snitch?” Ludo continued. “Not a chance, boys, not a chance. I’ll give you excellent odds on that one. We’ll add five Galleons for the funny wand too.”

“Cheers!” George chimed as soon as the deal was finalized. Ludo turned back to Mr. Weasley, who looked rather apprehensive about the deal his sons had just made. 

“Couldn’t do me a brew, I suppose? I’m keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number’s making difficulties, and I can’t understand a word he’s saying. He’ll be able to sort it out—he speaks about a hundred and fifty languages.”

“Mr. Crouch?” Percy asked, breaking his previous silence. “He speaks over two hundred! Mermish, Gobbledegook, Troll—”

“Anyone can speak Troll,” Fred dismissed. “All you have to do is point and grunt.”

Hermione, Harry, Ron, and I snickered as Percy shot him an extremely nasty look.

“How incredibly—”

“Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet?” Mr. Weasley cut in, interrupting Percy. 

“Not at all,” Ludo sighed. “But she’ll turn up. Poor Bertha—memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. She’s lost. She’ll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it’s still July.”

“You don’t think it might be time to send someone to look for her?”

“Barty keeps saying that, but we really can’t spare anyone at the moment. Oh—speak of the devil! Barty!” 

A tall, stiff-looking older man waltzed into the tent. He was the exact opposite of Ludo Bagman. He wore a crisp suit and tie, his hair was neatly combed, and his shoes were shinier than the diamonds on my bracelet. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Ludo,” Mr. Crouch said impatiently. “The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box.”

“Oh is  _ that _ what you’re after? I thought the chap was asking for a pair of tweezers. He’s got a bit of a strong accent,” Ludo joked. 

Percy rushed to Mr. Crouch and bowed. “Mr. Crouch! Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh.” Mr. Crouch looked at Percy in mild surprise. “Yes, thank you, Weatherby.”

Everyone but Percy—who was a bright shade of red—snorted. Fred and George were especially amused, and I could practically hear them teasing him in their minds.

“Oh, and I’ve been wanting a word with you too, Arthur,” Mr. Crouch quipped. As he and Mr. Weasley began talking about magic carpets, I turned to the twins.

“Don’t you think betting all your money’s a bit risky?” I asked. “What if you lose?”

“What if we win?” George challenged. “There’s always a chance.”

“Well—yes, but the chances are slim. I mean what are the odds that Krum will get it but Ireland wins?”

“Trust the system, Pep,” Fred insisted. “If it works, we’ll get money.”

“And what do you need all that money for?”

“Our joke shop, of course.”

There was the sound of a chair scraping, and Mr. Crouch stood up. “Thank you for the tea, Weatherby.” Ludo stood up too, the gold in his pockets clinking. 

“See you all later! You’ll be in the Top Box with me—I’m commentating!” He waved to us and disappeared with Mr. Crouch.

“What’s happening at Hogwarts, Dad?” Ron asked. 

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Huh?” 

“They were talking about some sort of announcement,” he explained. “What is it?”

“You’ll find out soon,” was his response. 

Percy cleared his throat. “ _ I _ think Mr. Crouch was right not to disclose it. It’s classified information, and it will be until the Ministry decides to release it.”

“Oh shut up, Weatherby,” Fred taunted, making Percy turn a brighter shade of red. 

∆ ∆ ∆

A couple hours later, it was time for the match. There were crowds of people everywhere, and I was awestruck by the sight of the massive stadium. We made our way to the nearest entrance, which was surrounded by a crowd of people. 

“Prime seats!” the Ministry witch shouted. “Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go!” 

We climbed up multiple flights of stairs until we reached the Ministry Box. It was at the highest point of the stadium, placed halfway between the goal posts. I sat one seat away from the edge, next to Harry. As everyone took their seats, I glanced at the advertisements floating across the stadium. 

_ “Dobby?” _

I whipped my head around to see Harry talking to a small house elf. 

“Did sir just call me Dobby?” the elf squeaked. 

“Sorry,” Harry apologized. “I just thought you were someone I knew.”

“But I knows Dobby too, sir!” the elf replied. “My name is Winky, sir—and you, sir is Harry Potter!”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Dobby talks of you all the time!” she chirped. 

“How is he? Is freedom suiting him well?”

Winky shook her head. “I mean no disrespect—I sure you wanted to help—but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor when you setting him free.”

“Why? What’s wrong with them?” Harry pressed, clearly taken aback by Winky’s words. 

“He is wanting paying for his work, sir,” Winky whispered. 

“Why shouldn’t he be paid?” I cut in.

Winky looked horrified at my question. “House elves is not paid, miss! I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir—that is unbecoming to a house elf.”

“Well, it’s about time he’s had a bit of fun,” Harry stated. 

“House elves is not supposed to have fun,” Winky said firmly. “We do what is told. I is not liking heights, but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes.”

“Why would he send you up here if he knows you don’t like heights?”

“Master—master wants me to save him a seat. He is very busy,” Winky answered. “Winky is wishing she is back in master’s tent, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house elf.” With that final remark, she buried her face into her hands and said no more. 

“So that’s a house elf?” Ron muttered. “Weird things, aren’t they?”

“Dobby was weirder.”

Ron and I inspected the Omniculars that Harry had gotten us while Hermione chattered on and on about the mascot performance that would take place before the game. 

Over the course of thirty minutes, the box filled with more and more people. When Cornelius Fudge himself entered the box, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Fudge greeted Harry like they were old friends, and even tried to introduce him to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic. 

“I’m no great shakes at languages,” he said after spending a great deal of time trying to explain who Harry was to the Bulgarian minister. “I need Barry Crouch for this sort of thing. Oh, I see his house elf’s trying to save him a seat. Good thinking since most of these Bulgarians have been trying to snatch all the best places...ah, here’s Lucius!”

I turned around quickly. Behind us was Lucius Malfoy, a woman who had to be Malfoy’s mother, and Draco Malfoy himself. 

He had grown since the last time I had seen him, and his features were far more mature too—more aristocratic. He wore a crisp black suit, his white-blonde hair was neatly combed, and he wore a smug, tight-lipped smile. But what unsettled me the most was the fact that he looked even more attractive than he had two months ago. 

A lot more attractive. 

“Ah, Fudge,” Mr. Malfoy said curtly, shaking Fudge’s hand. “How are you? I don’t think you’ve met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?”

My eyes were still watching him intently—it was like I couldn’t look away. He hadn’t noticed us yet, and I wondered what he would do when he did. As soon as that thought entered my mind, I frowned. Why did I care what he—a prejudiced, annoying idiot— thought about me? 

Suddenly, his gaze shifted, and his eyes met mine. I was embarrassed to be caught staring, but I was shocked to see him flash me a  _ smile _ . Flustered, I forced my eyes away from him and his ridiculously attractive face. 

“Why did Malfoy just smile at you?” Ron asked incredulously. 

“He didn’t smile at me,” I lied. 

“I just saw!”

I let out a scoff. “You’re delusional. Why would he smile at me?”

“But—”

“It’s  _ Malfoy _ , Ron. He’s probably just getting ready to think of some insults.” 

“How do you do?” Fudge greeted them boisterously. “Let me introduce to you to Mr. Oblansk—Obalonsk—well, he’s the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can’t understand a word I’m saying anyway, so never mind. And let’s see who else—you know Arthur Weasley, right?”

All three Malfoys turned around. Narcissa Malfoy was tall, slim, and pretty, with ash blonde streaked dark brown hair styled in an elegant hairstyle. She, much like her husband, wore a look of disgust as she looked at the Weasleys. Malfoy, on the other hand, was looking at me, with no intent on focusing it elsewhere. I broke eye contact again, thoroughly unnerved by his gaze. 

“Good lord, Arthur,” Lucius provoked. “What did you have to do to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn’t have fetched this much?”

Fudge, who clearly wasn’t listening, continued. “Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo’s, Arthur. He’s here as my guest.”

“How nice,” Mr. Weasley muttered with a forced smile on his face. 

Lucius’s gaze turned to Hermione and I, and we both knew why. Hermione seemed upset, but I glared at Lucius with the same contempt he held for me. 

“That’s quite the bracelet you’ve got there, Miss Atkinson,” he remarked. “It’s a Didier— _ very _ expensive.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” I said as politely as possible, fidgeting with the bracelet that his son had given me. I had been thinking about it all summer, and I had no idea why he had given me the bracelet  _ and  _ a Nimbus 2001. No matter which way I looked at it, it didn’t make sense. 

“May I ask where you got it?”

“It was a gift.”

“From who?”

_ From your son, apparently.  _ “A friend.”

“What a kind friend,” he drawled. He threw us one last sneer, and walked back to his wife, and they sat in the two empty seats next to Fudge. 

“Peppermint.” I looked up to see Malfoy sitting next to me like we were old friends. Hermione, Harry, and Ron all stared at him, equally as confused.

“Oh no, no, what are you doing?”

“Sitting.”

“Sit somewhere else,” I hissed. “But not here.” 

“I’m afraid I can’t,” he replied. “There aren’t any other seats left.”

I glanced around the box and found every other seat taken. “Well can’t you switch with one of your parents? Aren’t you supposed to be sitting with them?”

“I had to trade seats with the Bulgarian minister since Father wants to talk to him. Besides, I won’t let Mother sit next to dirty blood.”

“Watch it, Malfoy,” Ron warned. 

“What are you going to do to me, Weasley?” Malfoy retorted. “Pay me? Oh wait—”

“Shut up!” Harry barked. “Shut up!”

“Now I’m not sitting here because I want to,” Malfoy stated, ignoring Harry’s request. “And I definitely don’t want to  _ talk _ to you.”

“Then shut it,” I murmured. 

“Not very friendly today, are you?” Malfoy questioned amusedly. “Why’s that?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t particularly enjoy being called ‘dirty blood’, Malfoy,” I answered flatly. 

He winced. “Back to Malfoy, are we?”

“I’ll call you Draco when I feel like it,” I retorted, ignoring Harry, Hermione, and Ron’s eyes on me. “And right now, I don’t.”

“Pity,” he sighed. “And here I thought we were becoming best buddies.”

“You and me?” I scoffed. “Never.”

“Someday, Peppermint, someday.” 

Harry nudged me. “Peppermint?”

“Long story,” I muttered, turning away from Malfoy. I was determined to enjoy my Quidditch World Cup experience, and I wouldn’t let unfortunate seating arrangements ruin it. But it proved to be more difficult than anticipated. Malfoy constantly cut me off when I tried to talk to anybody, or worse, he offered his unwanted opinions. 

In a fit of frustration, I groaned and turned to face him instead. “What do you want?”

A sly smile crept onto his face. “To chat.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don’t want to chat?” I spat. 

“You seem very chatty to me.”

“Correction—I don’t want to chat with you.”

“Now you’re just hurting my feelings,” he replied. “I’m a very fun person once you get to know me, Atkinson.”

“Well I don’t want to know you,” I insisted. “What I want is to enjoy the match.”

“And you will. With me.” He grinned as I rolled my eyes for the fifth time that day. “Oh look—they’re selling sweets.”

There were various witches and wizards offering sweets and other snacks. My eyes immediately went to the Peppermint Toads, and I rummaged through my pockets for money. 

“Would you like anything?” a blonde witch asked us politely. 

“I’d like a Peppermint Toad please.”

“As would I,” Malfoy added. Then much to everyone’s horror, he handed the witch enough money to pay for both me and him. 

“Enjoy, Peppermint,” he said, opening his package of candy. I didn’t quite know what to say, so I just nodded and ate my candy silently, not bothering to talk to anybody else. 

“So who do you think will win?” Malfoy asked once he was done eating. “Are you an Irish supporter? Or are you a die-hard Krum girl?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I am  _ not _ a Krum girl. I think he’s kind of overrated. I mean, sure he’s young, but so are a lot of people.”

“So anti-Krum?”

“I s’pose you could say that. The Irish will win. The Irish will definitely win.”

“You seem to have a lot of trust in that decision.”

“Just think about it. If Krum’s the best they got, great. But what about their Chasers? Beaters? Keeper? They need a strong team, not one strong player.”

“But he’s a really strong player.”

“True—but is he really going to catch the Snitch within five minutes? No.”

He clicked his tongue. “You make a good point.”

I smiled. “I know.”

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Ludo Bagman’s voice boomed over the entire stadium. “Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!” 

Everyone clapped furiously, and I was so excited that I nearly jumped out of my seat.

Malfoy chuckled. “I forget that it’s your first professional match.”

“And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!”

“What’s their mascot?” I asked curiously, looking around the stadium. 

“Veela!” Malfoy gasped, sitting up a little straighter. 

“Veela? What are—?” My question was answered before I had even finished asking it. Veela swarmed the fields, dancing to music. They were tall, slim women with shiny long hair, and they were unnaturally pretty. 

I turned to ask Malfoy another question, but he was in a daze. His eyes were glossed over, and he was actually drooling over these women. I turned around, and noticed that almost every single man and even a few women were doing the same thing. 

Harry suddenly stood from his seat and started walking towards the railing. 

“Harry, what are you doing?” Hermione shrieked as he started to swing a leg over. As she scolded him for his recklessness, I turned back to Malfoy. My eyes nearly bugged out of my head when I noticed that he was halfway over the railing himself. 

“What are you doing?” I shouted, yanking him away from the danger. He blinked furiously, and stared at me in shock. 

“W—what happened?” he questioned groggily as the music stopped. Angry yells filled the stadium as the veela left.

“Veela,” I sighed. “You nearly killed yourself for them. And for what?”

“I wanted to impress them,” he murmured as he sank back into his seat. 

“Why?” I asked, suddenly very irritated. “You could have hurt yourself.”

His bemused expression turned into a smug one. 

“Are you worried about me?”

My thoughts faltered for a moment. “Of course not. But if you got hurt, then the match would be postponed and I would have sat next to you for no good reason.”

“If you insist,” he quipped, his eyes baring straight into mine. I looked away. y. 

“And they’re not even  _ that _ pretty,” I murmured, crossing my arms around my chest. If Malfoy heard me, he didn’t say anything.

“And now,” Ludo roared, “the Irish National Team Mascots!” 

A burst of green and gold zoomed through the air, splitting into separate little bursts of light. As I looked closer, I realized that the light was actually leprechauns. The leprechauns were dropping gold from the sky, and most people scrambled to get some. 

“Ridiculous,” Malfoy muttered as Ron shoved a fistful of gold into Harry’s hand. “They do realize that leprechaun gold disappears, right?”

I looked up. “I’m sure they do.” 

The leprechauns disappeared and sat opposite the veela, who sat cross-legged to watch the match. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you, Dimitrov! Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Volkov! And Krum!”

Seven scarlet-robed players zoomed into the stadium, and the Bulgarian supporters went wild with applause, especially when Viktor Krum flew in. He looked even grumpier than he did in the poster. He was sallow-skinned, had a large curved nose, and his thick black eyebrows were furrowed in what seemed to be intense concentration. 

“And now Ireland! Presenting—Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! And Lynch!” 

Each of the Irish players rode a brand-new Firebolt, and their names were neatly engraved in the handle. After both teams had entered the stadium, the referee was introduced. He opened the trunk, the four balls shot into the air, and the match began.

“AND THEY’RE OFF!” Ludo screamed. “It’s Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!” 

I had never seen a game of Quidditch like this before. The Chasers threw the Quaffle so quickly that Ludo Bagman only had time to say their names. I watched the Chasers in awe, taking note of their strategies and techniques. I had never seen such smooth passes between teammates before—it was like they were reading each other’s minds as they tossed the Quaffle around. 

“TROY SCORES! Ten zero to Bulgaria!” 

I watched intently as both teams fought for the Quaffle. Just as Ireland lost possession of it to Bulgaria, I saw Krum speeding towards Ireland’s goal post. Aidan Lynch, Ireland’s Seeker, followed him closely, both of them flying at an incredible speed. I watched as they got nearer and nearer to the ground.

“They’re going to crash!” I shrieked, gripping my armrest. But when my hand touched not the armrest but another hand—Malfoy’s, to be exact—I jerked it away immediately, At the last second, Krum pulled out of the dive and Lynch hit the ground with a thud. 

“What happened?” I asked. “Where’s the Snitch?” 

“He was feinting,” Malfoy explained, flexing the hand that I had touched. “He pretended to see the Snitch to trick Lynch.”

Lynch turned out to be fine. He was healed quickly, and he hopped back onto his broomstick and continued to search for the Snitch.

I watched the entire match intently. Ireland scored numerous goals, much to the dismay of the Bulgarians and the veelas, who turned into some rather nasty bird-like creatures. 

“Not so beautiful now, are they?” I muttered under my breath.

“No they aren’t,” Malfoy replied. “They’re not really my type anyways.”

I blinked. “What—”

“Look at Lynch!” Harry yelled. He tugged my sleeve aggressively. “Pepper, look at Lynch!” 

Lynch had gone into a dive, zooming after the sparkling Golden Snitch. Shortly after, Krum was on his tail, and both of them stretched a hand out for the Snitch. 

“They’re going to crash!” Hermione screamed. 

“They’re not!” Ron roared.

Harry jumped up from his seat. “Lynch is!” 

Harry was right. Lynch did hit the ground—without the Snitch. He was stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

“Where’s the Snitch?” Malfoy questioned, peering over the railings. “Where’s the Snitch?”

I looked closer at Krum, and the small gold ball was in his hands. “He caught it. Viktor Krum caught the Snitch!” I glanced at the scoreboard that was flashing  _ Bulgaria: 160, Ireland 170. _ Krum had gotten the Snitch, but Ireland had won.

“IRELAND WINS!” Ludo shouted. The crowd burst into loud cheers as Ludo rehashed the details of Krum’s move. 

“Why would he catch the Snitch?” Ron pressed. “He caught it when Ireland was one hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!”

“He knew they were never going to catch up,” I answered, remembering what Oliver Wood had taught me my first year. “There’s no use fighting for a lost cause.” 

“It was brave,” Hermione said, staring at Krum. “He…” 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” Malfoy drawled, prompting me to shift my attention back to him. “I thought Bulgaria was going to win.”

“Bet any money on it?” I taunted. 

“A bit. But it won’t make a difference,” he replied. “Now if you made any bets—”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, remembering Fred and George’s bet with Ludo Bagman. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you?” 

“No, not me. Excuse me for a second,” I murmured, walking over to where both Fred and George sat.

“We won!” Fred whooped. “We won!” 

“I know, I know!” I chirped. “You’re rich!” 

“And to think you doubted us,” George remarked. 

“I’ll never doubt you again!” I giggled. “So what are you guys going to do now?”

Before they could answer, both the Irish and Bulgarian teams entered the Top Box to greet Fudge and the other ministers. Once they were gone, Fred and George marched up to Fudge.

He let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I owe you how much?”

∆ ∆ ∆

“Don’t tell your mother you’ve been gambling,” Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as we walked back to the tent. 

“Don’t worry, Dad. We’ve got big plans for this money. We don’t want it confiscated,” Fred replied nonchalantly, winking at me. 

Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to ask a question, but quickly shut it, seemingly deciding that he didn’t want to know. 

By the time we reached our tent, it was already late. But none of us were tired (especially with the loud cheering from Ireland supporters), so Mr. Weasley let us have a cup of hot chocolate before going to bed.

“Weasley Wizard Wheezes, here we come!” George effused. “I can see it now. We’re going to be as successful as Zonko’s!” 

“You’ll be better than Zonko’s,” I assured. “You’ll drive them out of business.”

“ _ We’ll  _ drive them out of business,” Fred corrected. “It’ll be me, Georgie, and  _ you _ .”

I grinned. “Really?” 

“Yes, really. We couldn’t run our joke shop without our fellow Rouge Rebel, now can we?” 

My grin widened. “I s’pose not.”

“So you’re in?” George asked.

“Of course I’m in!” I exclaimed happily, raising my mug of hot chocolate. “Here’s to driving Zonko’s out of business!”

We managed to stay awake for at least two extra hours. Harry, Ron, Bill, Charlie, and I got into a discussion about the Wronski Feint that Krum had used, and how it had worked out in his favor. 

“I did  _ not _ see that coming,” I chimed. “I think it was a smart move on his part.” 

Bill nodded. “He almost got Lynch out like that.”

“And if he had done it earlier, perhaps they would’ve won,” Charlie added. 

“It was brilliant!” Harry exclaimed. “I’ve got to try that one at school. That’ll throw Malfoy for a loop.”

“I think he’ll be expecting it,” I remarked. “He was the one who explained it to me. Or who knows? Maybe he’ll try to use it on you.” 

“That Malfoy boy’s really got it bad for you, huh?” Bill questioned. 

“W-what?” I stuttered.

“He likes you,” Bill shrugged. Charlie nodded fervently. 

“No he doesn’t,” I insisted. “He’s just—he’s not even a friend! He’s an acquaintance.” 

“Well then he sure likes to bother you,” Charlie commented. “I mean, he sat right next to you.”

“Yeah, why was he next to you?” Ron asked curiously.

“There weren’t enough seats with Fudge,” I explained. “And my seat was the only one left. A real tragedy if you ask me.”

“And what’s with that nickname? Peppermint?” 

I rolled my eyes. “Just another one of his stupid ways to annoy me.” 

“I–” Charlie was interrupted by Ginny’s head banging on the table, knocking her hot chocolate to the floor. Mr. Weasley took this as a sign to send us to bed, and Hermione, Ginny, and I went to our room. 

“Pepper?” Hermione questioned once the doors were closed.

“Yeah?” I yawned, starting to feel rather sleepy. I started pulling on my pajamas, ready to go to bed. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.”

“Do you… do you like Malfoy?” 

I stopped buttoning my pajama shirt.  _ “What?”  _

“Do you like Malfoy?”

“No!” I exclaimed. “What on earth makes you think that?” 

“You two just talk a lot—”

“He talks to me,” I interrupted. “And I’m just being polite. Just because he’s a git doesn’t mean that I’m going to be one in return. At least not unprovoked.”

She nodded. “That makes sense. And I didn’t really think you liked him, I just… I wanted to be sure.”

“Why?” 

“Because he’s not good news,” she said. “Anyway, it’s rather ridiculous that I asked you. You of all people would never like  _ him _ .”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Goodnight, Hermione.” 

“Goodnight, Pepper.”

As I climbed into bed, I couldn’t help but think how what I had told Hermione felt like a lie. 

“Pepper!  _ Pepper! _ ” 

I awoke to George shaking me. “What’s going on?”

“Get up, Pep, get up. We need to go.” He threw me my jacket. “No time to change. Put this on!” 

As I pulled on my jacket and grabbed my wand, George shook Ginny and Hermione awake. Once we had our jackets on, we rushed out of the tent, where everyone huddled together, equally as confused. I spotted an army of wizards wearing hoods, marching across the campsites. I couldn’t see their faces, and realized that they were masks. Above them were four figures that were twitching uncontrollably. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized that those four figures were people—Muggles, to be exact. They were the same Muggles that had checked us in before the match. 

“George, what—”

“Death Eaters,” he whispered. “Those are Death Eaters.” 

I felt my stomach drop. “You’re kidding.”

“Not this time,” Fred murmured. 

“We’re going to help the Ministry,” Mr. Weasley said, standing in front of Bill, Charlie, and Percy, who were all dressed and ready for battle. “You lot—get into the woods and stick together. I’ll come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this out.” 

The older Weasleys sprinted away, and we ran towards the woods, dodging the crowds. The crowd underneath the Muggles had grown, and I could see Ministry wizards trying to help. It looked like they were afraid to use any spell that might make the Muggle family fall. 

It was completely dark outside. Any lanterns or candles were extinguished, and we could barely see in front of us. I felt myself being pushed back and forth as people ran away, and soon, I heard Ron yell with pain. 

“What happened?” Hermione asked anxiously, stopping so abruptly that both Harry and I walked into her. “Ron, where are you? Oh this is ridiculous— _ lumos _ .”

A flash of light came from Hermione’s wand, and we could now clearly see Ron sprawled on the floor. 

“Tripped over a tree root,” he muttered, standing up. 

“Well, with feet that size, it’d be hard not to.” I whipped my head around at the familiar voice, and saw Malfoy casually leaning against a tree.

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Ron spat angrily. 

“Language, Weasley,” he taunted. “You better get going now. You wouldn’t want them getting spotted, would you?” He nodded towards Hermione and I.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione inquired defensively. 

“What do you think?” I whispered to her. 

“They’re after  _ Muggles _ ,” he enunciated. “Do you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around. They’re moving this way, and I’m sure it’d give us all a laugh.”

“Hermione and Pepper are witches,” Harry snarled. 

“Have it your way,” Malfoy shrugged. “If you think they can’t spot a Mudblood, stay where you are.” 

Hermione stiffened at the name, but I rolled my eyes. “Mudblood? Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

Before he could respond, there was a loud bang from the other side of the trees. Several people screamed in terror. 

“Scare easily, don’t they?” Malfoy remarked. “I s’pose your dear old dad told you to hide? I bet he’s probably trying to save those Muggles.”

“Where are  _ your _ parents?” Harry spat. “Out there wearing masks?”

Malfoy maintained his haughty expression. “If they were, I wouldn’t be likely to tell you, would I?”

“Really?” I cut in. “I think you’d brag about it.” 

“Come on,” Hermione whispered. “Let’s go find the others.”

“But—” There was another loud explosion, but this one was right in front of us. I screamed as someone grabbed my arm and yanked me deeper into the forest. My mind was blank, and I was practically being dragged across the forest by the person pulling me. Once my senses had returned, I jerked my arm away. 

“Don’t,” Malfoy hissed.

“Malfoy?” I gasped. “But—you—what?” 

“Hurry up. They’re getting closer.” 

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere. Come on, it’s not safe.” 

I stayed put. “But—”

“Goddamn it, Atkinson, I’m trying to  _ help _ you,” he huffed. “Let me help you. I wasn’t kidding before. They will take you. Now let’s go.”

I followed Malfoy further into the woods, until the screams and shouts of the others were a distant hum. We stopped by a small clearing, and waited by a large tree. 

“I think this is good,” Malfoy said, turning to face me. “Or do you want to go deeper?”

“No, this is fine.” I sat down on the cool grass. “What are they doing? Why are they doing this?”

“This is their idea of fun,” he answered. 

“But they just do this for fun? So the Death Eaters are a social club?”

“No. They just… well, I think…” he sighed. “Actually, I don’t know. I really don’t know.”

“Would they really hurt me?” I asked quietly. “Would they really?”

His silence was enough of an answer for me. I looked away. 

“But they won’t. They won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t think they’ll go this far into the woods to search for Mud—for people like you,” he said quietly. “Besides, I won’t—” He quickly cut himself off.

I furrowed my eyebrow. “You won’t what?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the twins were nowhere to be seen. Malfoy and I sat together in silence, listening to the faint noises of the campsite. 

“What was that?” Malfoy asked, jumping to his feet. 

“What was what?”

“That noise—there was a noise.”

“I—” The sound of branches breaking caught my attention, and I pulled my wand out of my pocket. 

“Stay here,” Malfoy ordered, creeping around a tree. 

“Wha—no!” I exclaimed, following him. “You—”

_ “Get down!”  _

I dropped to the floor just as I saw a dark figure a few feet away from us. Malfoy was right next to me, breathing heavily. 

“Be absolutely quiet,” he whispered, readjusting himself so he could see better. The entire right side of his body was pressed next to mine, but I knew better than to comment on it at the moment. I stiffened, and focused on the figure, adrenaline pumping through my blood. 

_ “Morsmordre!”  _

A patch of bright green shot into the air. I shifted my gaze upwards, and saw a massive skull with a snake coming out of its mouth like a disfigured tongue. It contrasted greatly with the pitch black sky, and I watched it rise higher and higher into the sky. I returned my attention to the stranger, but realized that he was gone. 

Malfoy stood up slowly, looking at the sky. For once, he seemed to be at a loss for words. 

I started to stand. “Is that—?”

“It is,” he interrupted, extending his hand. “The Dark Mark.” 

“But who—”

“I don’t know.”

I took a shaky breath and rubbed my arms together. “Now what?”

He thought it over for a minute. “Let’s wait a minute. We don’t know if they’re still out there.”

I nodded slowly, and leaned against a tree, deep in thought. Someone had just cast the Dark Mark into the sky. Now, I didn’t know a lot about Voldemort, but I did know that the Dark Mark was his sign. But did that mean Voldemort was back? And if he was back, what did that mean for everyone? For Muggle-borns?

“Are you… okay?”

I snapped out of my daze. “Er, sorry—what?”

“Are you okay?” he repeated. “You just look—”

“Scared?” He nodded. “Gee, wonder why.” 

“Well I was just—”

“Sorry,” I sighed. “That was rude. It’s just… if this is his mark, does that mean he’s back?”

“No. It’s most likely just a follower of his. I highly doubt that the Dark Lord’s back.”

“The Dark Lord?”

“Some of us don’t like to call him by his real name,” he stated simply. 

“I know. I just hadn’t heard that name before.” 

Malfoy shrugged, and looked around the forest once more. “I think it’s safe to go back now. Unless you want to wait a bit more?” 

“N-no, it’s fine,” I stammered. “We can go—”

“No, I mean it. If you want to stay a little longer, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Okay. But just a little longer.” 

“I don’t plan on spending my entire life here, Peppermint.”

I smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah.” 

I rocked back and forth on my heels, trying to occupy my mind with something other than Voldemort and Death Eaters. Maybe—

“I almost forgot!” Malfoy blurted.

“Forgot what?” 

He walked closer to me until we were mere inches apart. It was then that I really noticed how tall he was—he towered over me, at least a head and a half taller than me. He bent his neck and brought his face closer to mine. His eyes bore into mine, and I felt my breath hitch. 

“Strange.” I could feel his breath on my face, and it was surprisingly very minty. 

“What is?” 

“Your eyes,” he explained, still maintaining close proximity. “They’re actually very hazel today. A perfect mix.”

I didn’t say anything. I continued to look into his grey eyes, admiring the various shades of blue in them. I noticed his eyes flicker down to my lips, and I started to wonder what it would feel like if the distance were closed…

“I think it’s safe now,” I said, stepping back. Part of me was fluttery from how close we had been, and the other part was horrified that I had even thought about kissing Malfoy. I didn’t want to kiss him. It was just the space between us, wasn’t it?

He cleared his throat. “Let’s go then.”

We walked through the forest, trying to find our way back to the campsites. There were no more screams and shouts—only the sound of the wind and bustling trees were heard. We walked in complete silence, and it was only broken when I warned Malfoy about running into a tree. I was tempted to ask him about the bracelet and the broomstick, but decided against it. As much as I wanted to know, I really didn’t. 

It took us at least a half hour to find the campsites. We had gone far into the forest, and we didn’t even remember which direction we had come from. I was starting to think that I was going to starve to death in the forest with Draco Malfoy as company when I finally spotted the warming flicker of a lantern. 

“Thank God!” I exclaimed. “I thought we were going to be in there forever. We’d starve to death.”

“We could have eaten squirrels,” Malfoy suggested.

“Squirrels? Seriously? You’d eat squirrels?”

“I wouldn’t really have a choice, would I?”

“Leaves?”

“And risk eating poisonous ones? No thanks.”

“So high maintenance,” I joked dryly. 

I realized then that we had arrived back at the Weasley’s tent. There was a crowd of witches and wizards around it, talking amongst themselves about who had cast the Dark Mark. 

“I’ll, uh, leave you here,” Malfoy divulged. “See you at school.” 

I watched as he started to walk away. “Mal—Draco?” 

He turned around with a bemused expression on his face. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. Really.”

He smiled. “Goodbye, Peppermint.”

I pushed my way through the crowd of people and opened the flap of the tent. Everyone was sitting at the table, and they all jumped to their feet once they saw me.

“Pepper!”

“Thank God you’re okay—”

“We thought—”

“We were worried—”

“What if you had gotten hurt—?”

“We didn’t see you—”

“We heard the explosion and ran—”

“What if you had died—?”

“I’m so sorry we lost you!” Hermione cried, tackling me in a warm embrace. 

“Are you alright, Pepper?” Mr. Weasley asked. “What happened?”

“There was a spell in the forest,” I explained. “And we were separated from the group.”

“We?”

“Oh—uh—” I was hesitant to tell the Weasleys that I had been with Malfoy. Especially since some of them seemed to believe that there was something more going on. And of course there  _ wasn’t _ , but I couldn’t have them thinking that there was. Besides, even if they didn’t think that there was something going on, they would ask a million questions as to why he, a pureblood, would choose to help me, a Mudblood. And I didn’t even know the answer to that question. 

“We as in Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I,” I lied. “I mean that we were separated.” 

He nodded, believing my lie. “You should get to bed—you must be exhausted—all of you.” 

Nobody objected to Mr. Weasley’s proposal. I trudged to bed and buried myself in my blankets. Ginny and Hermione were out within seconds, but I stayed wide-awake for at least an hour, my mind flooded with thoughts of Malfoy. Why had he helped me? He didn’t seem too keen on helping Hermione. And in the forest, he had been nice with me. Not snarky, not sarcastic—but genuinely kind. But  _ why? _ Why the sudden shift in behavior? It just didn’t make sense.

But then again, when had Malfoy ever made sense? 


	32. Garnet

_ Come on, it’s a silly dream  _

The next morning—after only a few hours of sleep—we left the campsite. As we walked to the Portkey, Harry, Ron, and Hermione filled me in on everything I had missed when I was hiding with Malfoy. 

“So basically, they think it’s Winky?” I asked. 

Ron nodded. “Yes, but we know it wasn’t her. We heard a man say the spell.” 

“So did I,” I added. “And I saw him.”

“You  _ saw _ him? What did he look like?”

“He was tall and lanky.” 

“Oh, that helps,” Harry said sassily. “That  _ really _ narrows it down.” 

“I didn’t see his face,” I retorted. “It was too dark. I just saw his outline.”

“Well either way, it had to be a Death Eater,” Hermione cut in. “They’re the only ones who would know the spell. But that’s not what we should be worrying about. They’ll catch whoever did it.”

“Then what should we be worrying about?”

“The house elf!” she exclaimed. 

“Here we go again,” Ron muttered. 

“It’s a serious issue!” Hermione cried. “You wouldn’t believe the way they treat those elves, Pepper! It’s horrible! It’s truly horrible!” 

“It’s their job, Hermione. They’re supposed to be loyal to their masters. What Winky did—”

“They treat her like she’s not human!” Hermione screeched, interrupting Percy’s attempt to calm her. Hermione’s outburst shocked me, especially since she usually got along rather well with Percy. 

“She technically isn’t,” Ron stated boldly, earning a glare from Hermione.

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t have  _ feelings! _ And…” 

Hermione’s rant ended only when we reached the Portkey. Everyone was tired of her lengthy speech, but we were all too kind to say so. Well, Ron tried, but Bill gave him a swift kick every time he tried. 

We took an old rubber tire back to the forest by the Burrow, where Hermione unfortunately continued her tirade. Luckily, we were saved once we rounded the corner of the Burrow. 

“Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!” 

Mrs. Weasley, who had clearly been waiting for us in the front yard, came running towards us, clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet. She flung herself into Mr. Weasley’s arms and let out a sob.

“I’ve been so worried! So, so worried!” she cried. She then turned to Fred and George, and wrapped them into a tight embrace. They let out a groan of pain as their heads banged together.

“Mum, you’re strangling us!” George whined. 

“I shouted at you before you left!” Mrs. Weasley sobbed. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn’t get enough O.W.L.s? Oh Fred… George…” 

“Come on, now, Molly, we’re all perfectly okay,” Mr. Weasley consoled. We all walked inside of the Burrow, where Hermione made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea. Upon Mr. Weasley’s request, she even added a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey. As Mrs. Weasley drank her tea, Mr. Weasley began reading the newspaper. 

“I knew it,” he muttered as he scanned the paper.  _ “Ministry blunders… culprits not apprehended… lax security… Dark wizards running unchecked… national disgrace…  _ Who wrote this? Ah… of course… Rita Skeeter.”

“Who?” I questioned. 

“Rita Skeeter!” Percy repeated furiously. “That woman’s got it in for the Ministry of Magic! Last week she was saying we’re wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn’t  _ specifically _ stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines—”

“Do us a favor, Perce,” Bill interrupted. “Shut up.”

“I’m mentioned,” Mr. Weasley vocalized, his eyes widening as he continued to read. 

“Where?” Mrs. Weasley dropped her cup on the floor. “If I had seen that, I would have known if you were alive!”

“Not by name.  _ If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen _ .” Mr. Weasley let out an exasperated sigh. “Nobody was hurt—what was I supposed to say? Now there’s going to be rumors!” 

He set down the paper and rose to his feet. “I’m going to have to go to the office. This is going to take some smoothing over.”

“I’ll go with you,” Percy chirped. “Mr. Crouch needs me!” 

“Of course he does,” Fred muttered. “What would he do without his precious Weatherby?”

∆ ∆ ∆

Mr. Weasley was busy practically every single day of vacation. We hardly ever saw him. He (and Percy) left early in the morning, and returned well after dinner every night. I felt awful, especially since loads of people kept bombarding him with questions. 

Our final week of vacation was eventful. I spent a great deal of time helping the twins copy the few Ton-Tongue Toffees they had, and we started thinking of new products we could make. We had to do this rather inconspicuously though, since we didn’t want to attract Mrs. Weasley’s attention. 

When I wasn’t brainstorming with Fred and George, I was playing Quidditch with most of the Weasleys. Bill, Charlie, Ron, Ginny, Harry, Fred, George, and I played loads of games in the orchard, practicing new techniques that we had seen during the World Cup. 

Finally, it was time to return to Hogwarts. Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie kept mentioning the secret event that Ludo Bagman had nearly told us, and we were all dying of curiosity. But no matter how hard we begged, they refused to tell us. 

Once we were in our compartment, Harry, Ron, and I busied ourselves with a game of Exploding Snap while Hermione kept her nose glued to a very thick book. After a couple of hours, the trolley witch arrived, and we rushed to buy some sweets. I was opening my sweets when I saw Harry staring at something. I craned my neck, and saw him ogling Cho Chang as she approached the trolley.

“Two pumpkin pasties please,” she ordered. She smiled at Harry, who was still staring. He continued to stare as she walked away. 

“Anything sweet for you dear?” the trolley witch asked.

Harry shook his head. “Oh, no thank you. I'm not hungry.” He walked into the compartment and sank into his seat with a large grin on his face. 

“You’ve got a little bit of drool right there,” I teased, poking his cheek. 

He scowled. “Shut up.”

“It's hurting again isn't it?” Hermione questioned as he rubbed his forehead. “Your scar.”

Harry nodded. “It started hurting over the summer—after a dream. I wrote to Sirius about it.”

“I’m sure he’ll know what to do,” I remarked. “He must know loads.”

“I hope. I’ve been waiting for his reply for weeks. What could be taking him so long?”

“We don’t know where he is,” Hermione reminded him. “He could be anywhere.”

“He’s fine,” I reassured him. “He’s okay.”

The rest of the train ride passed without complication. I didn’t see Malfoy, something that I was rather grateful for, since I still didn’t understand why he had gone to such great lengths to protect me, and I wasn’t in the mood to talk to him again and get even more confused. 

“Now we're all settled in and sorted,” Dumbledore began at the feast, “I'd like to make an announcement. This castle will not only be your home this year but home to some very special guests as well. You see Hogwarts has been chosen—” He was interrupted by Filch, who ran up to the staff table, whispered something in Dumbledore’s ear, and then ran back outside. 

“So,” he continued. “Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event. The Triwizard Tournament.”

The entire Great Hall burst into excited chatter and gasps. I furrowed my eyebrow and turned to Ron. 

“What’s—”

“Now for those of you who do not know,” Dumbledore interrupted, “the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each school, a single contestant is selected to compete. Now, let me be clear. If chosen, you stand alone—and trust me when I say these contests are not for the faint hearted—” he clapped his hands together merrily. “—but more of that later. For now, please join me in welcoming the lovely students of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and their headmistress, Madam Maxime.”

The doors opened, and a group of students dressed in powder-blue silk outfits strutted down the middle of the hall. I giggled as Ron ogled at the girls. Next to the students was an extremely tall woman who had to be at least part-giant. She walked proudly, clearly happy with the way her students presented themselves. 

Dumbledore clapped. “And now our friends from the north, please greet the proud students of Durmstrang, and their high master, Igor Karkaroff.”

The doors opened again, but this time, a group of students wearing thick red uniforms entered. Their headmaster was a normal-sized man who looked rather cross. As they passed, Ron let out a gasp. 

“It’s Viktor Krum!”

Ron was right. Viktor Krum walked down the aisle, catching almost everybody’s attention. Some girls started to squeal, and they giggled as he walked by. 

Once the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students were seated, dinner began. Ron was rather glum as he ate his food, due to the fact that Viktor Krum and the Durmstrang students had chosen to sit with the Slytherins. 

“Look at him,” Ron glowered. “Stupid Malfoy.” Krum sat next to Malfoy, who wore a smug expression on his face. The two were deep in conversation, seemingly oblivious to the fact that most of the Great Hall was staring at Krum. Malfoy suddenly looked up, caught my eye, and raised his eyebrows coyly. I shifted my gaze away from him and back to my food. 

“They really outdid themselves this year,” George remarked with a mouthful of mashed potatoes. 

“Who did?” Hermione asked mindlessly.

“The house elves. The feast—”

Hermione knocked over her goblet, causing pumpkin juice to spill all over the white tablecloth. “There are house elves here? Here at Hogwarts?”

“Of course,” Nearly Headless Nick cut in. “The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred.”

“I’ve never seen one!”

“Well they hardly leave the kitchen during the day. They clean at night and so on… I mean, you’re not supposed to see them, are you? That’s the mark of a good house elf, isn’t it?”

“But they get paid, don’t they? They get holidays, and sick leaves, and pensions?”

Nearly Headless Nick let out a loud chortle. “Sick leave and pensions? They don’t want sick leave and pensions!” 

Hermione pushed her plate away and crossed her arms.

“Oh come on, Hermione. You won’t do anything by starving yourself. Just eat,” Ron coaxed. 

“Slave labor,” Hermione spat. “That’s what made this dinner.  _ Slave labor. _ ” She refused to eat another bite. 

“Your attention please!” Dumbledore exclaimed once dinner was over. “I would like to say a few words. Eternal glory is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to do this, the student must survive three tasks—three extremely dangerous tasks.”

“Wicked,” Fred remarked, his eyes growing the size of plates.

“For this reason, the Ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain all this, we have the Head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation, Mister Bartimus Crouch.”

“If Percy were here, I reckon he’d faint,” I murmured under my breath, making Ron, Harry, and the twins laugh. 

“Barty—”

Dumbledore was interrupted by the Great Hall doors swinging open once again. But this time, only a single man entered. He was strange-looking to say the least. He had normal body features, but he had a fake leg, a fake eye, and multiple scars all over his face. He hobbled to the staff table, taking a seat in the only empty chair. 

“Bloody hell, it's Mad-Eye Moody,” Ron whispered. 

“Alastor Moody? The Auror?” Hermione asked. 

“Auror?”

“A dark wizard catcher,” Ron explained. “Half the cells in Azkaban are full thanks to him. But, he’s supposed to be mad as a hatter these days.”

“Why?”

“He’s seen some things, Pepper. Terrible things, apparently. Don’t you remember what Dad said?”

“No.”

“Earlier today? Oh—you were with Fred and George, weren’t you? Earlier today, Dad was talking to Amos Diggory, and apparently he had an incident.”

“What kind of incident?”

“He thought someone was trying to attack him. But it was just his rubbish bins. He’s alright now, though.”

“And he’s going to be…”

“Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, yes.”

We watched as Moody took a big sip from a hip flask. He grimaced and took another sip. 

“What is he drinking?” I inquired. 

“I don't know,” Harry said. “But I don't think it's pumpkin juice.”

Barty Crouch, who looked rather annoyed with Mad-Eye Moody’s entrance, walked to the podium and cleared his throat. “After much deliberation, the Ministry has concluded that for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to put forth their name for the Triwizard Tournament. This decision is final.”

Everyone booed loudly, clearly upset with the Ministry’s decision. 

_ “Silence!”  _ Dumbledore bellowed. As the madness died down, he walked over to a large box, and pulled a tarp off of it. 

“The Goblet of Fire. Anyone wishing to submit themselves for the tournament must write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it in the flame before this hour on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly. If chosen, there's no turning back. As from this moment, the Triwizard Tournament has begun.”

“That rule is absolutely ridiculous,” George muttered as we walked back to our dormitories. “We’re nearly seventeen! Shouldn't that be enough?”

“Apparently not,” I replied. “It sucks, but there’s not much you can do about it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Paprika,” Fred chirped. “There’s  _ loads  _ we can do.”

“But Dumbledore’s going to draw an Age Line. How on earth are you going to get past it?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see, huh?”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Can’t wait.”

I listened to nearly everybody complain about the tournament’s age requirement. While it would be cool to participate in these tasks and win, I didn’t particularly fancy dying a painful death. So unlike the others, I wasn’t brainstorming ways to enter the contest. 

After unpacking and feeding Bruce, I went to bed. I was tired from the journey to Hogwarts, and fell into a deep sleep almost immediately. But as soon as I was asleep, I was plagued with a nightmare. 

_ “It was her!” a voice cried—it was familiar, but I couldn't quite place where I had heard it before. “Master, i-it was her!” _

_ “Impossible!” a different, unfamiliar voice snarled. “Impossible!” _

_ “I swear on my life! It was her!” _

_ “It just can’t be. I thought we had gotten rid of that problem years ago. What went wrong?”  _

_ A long pause.  _

_ “Are you sure?” the second voice hissed.  _

_ “Yes, Master.” _

_ “Would you be willing to bet your life on it?” _

_ “Y-yes, Master.” _

_ “It’s simple, then.”  _

_ “Mas—” _

_ “You will bring her to me.” _

I woke up drenched in sweat, wondering who the voices belonged to, who they were trying to find, but most importantly, why I had gotten the dream in the first place. 


	33. Violet

_ I saw this coming from the start  _

After last night’s nightmare, I didn’t get any more sleep. I sat on my bed for hours, stroking Bruce’s fur and trying to process what I had just seen. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t place the voice. I had heard it before—I was sure of it—but it wouldn’t click. 

“Not a bad day,” Ron remarked as we looked at our schedule for the day. “We’re outside all morning—”

“Double Divination,” Harry groaned. “If she predicts my death one more time, I’ll lose it.”

“I just hope there’s another empty seat somewhere,” I expressed. “I can’t stand sitting next to Malfoy.” Especially since I still wasn’t sure what his change in attitude was about. 

“Maybe you three should have taken something useful, like Arithmancy.”

“Arithmancy is not useful,” Ron retorted. “When am I ever going to use the stuff in there?” 

“When are you going to need Divination?”

“I’d like to know when I’m going to die!” 

“It’s not accurate! Think about it, Ron! If you have…” 

Hermione and Ron argued about Arithmancy the entire way to Herbology. Harry and I trailed behind them, amused with their petty discussion. 

“Looks like they’ll be getting together sooner than we thought,” I stated, making sure neither of them could hear me.

“Nah,” Harry uttered. “Look at them. It’s going to be a few tense years, but then they’ll get together.” 

“Wanna bet on it?”

“You’re on.”

Herbology was rather unpleasant. We worked on extracting pus from bubotubers, which was a disgusting process. We collected the pus in small containers for Madam Pomfrey, who used it to treat stubborn acne. 

Care of Magical Creatures wasn’t the greatest, either. We worked with Blast-Ended Skrewts, a deformed-looking creature whose end frequently exploded. We tried to find different foods to feed them, but all they did was explode. 

As Harry, Ron, and I mentally prepared ourselves for Divination at lunch, Hermione began eating extremely quickly, nearly choking on her food at least four times.

“Is this your new stand on elf rights?” Ron questioned. “You’re going to make yourself puke instead?”

“No,” Hermione mumbled through a mouthful of sprouts. “I just want to get to the library.”

“The library? We don’t even have homework yet!” Ron exclaimed. 

“Yeah, what do you need to do?” I added. 

Without answering our questions, Hermione shoved one last mouthful of food in her mouth and ran off, leaving the three of us confused in our seats. 

“She’s lost it,” Ron declared. “She’s officially lost it.”

After lunch, the three of us made our way to the North Tower for Divination. I sat with Harry and Ron at their old table, taking Hermione’s old seat. 

Trelawney walked in, and eyed our table. “My dear, you can’t sit there.”

“Why not?” I challenged. “You let Hermione sit here last year.”

“That was because we had an odd number,” she replied. “This year, we have an even number, so you need to sit somewhere else.” 

“But—” 

“Miss Vixens! Your aura is pulsing!” Trelawney cried, rushing towards her table. I grabbed my bag and trudged back to my old table. Not more than five minutes after I sat down, Malfoy joined me. 

“Malfoy.”

“Atkinson. It sure is better to see you in a more relaxed setting, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “The dark does wonders for your face.”

“Don’t lie to yourself,” he taunted with a smirk. “We all know you’ve got it bad for me.”

I felt my face heat up. “I do  _ not— _ ”

“Good day,” Trelawney greeted, interrupting my refusal. I turned away from Malfoy to face Trelawney, and tried to ignore the fact that I could feel his gaze on me. 

“It is time for us to consider the stars,” she continued, pointing at a large tapestry decorated with stars and planets. “Today, we will begin with the basics of astrology—zodiac signs.”

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil let out excited squeals as I felt my stomach churn. Mum had really liked astrology, and she always talked about how she was such a Sagittarius, whatever the bloody hell that meant.

_ “Today’s going to be a good day,” Mum murmured, flipping through the pages of her magazine.  _

_ “Says who?” I asked, laying on the couch, rereading a comic book.  _

_ “Says my horoscope,” she replied, taking a drag out of her cigarette. “Apparently, today I’ll experience an adventure.” _

_ I chuckled. I never really believed in astrology. Neither did Dad. Whenever Mum talked about it, I didn’t always pay attention. “What kind of adventure?” _

_ “We’ll just have to wait and see. Oh, yours says that you’ll suffer today…” _

_ “What? What does it say?” _

_ “It says that your beautiful mother is going to make you mow the lawn.” _

_ I scowled. “Liar.” _

“Refer to the charts in your books,” Trelawney instructed, and I snapped out of my daze. “Find your sign, write down the traits, and discuss with your partners. Only your zodiac sign. No sun, moon, or rising signs yet.”

Malfoy slammed his book onto the desk. “Shall we?” 

I nodded and pulled my own book out of my bag, trying to remember what page the stupid chart was on. I couldn’t focus—not with the lingering thought of Mum in my mind. Over time, the dreams had gotten less and less frequent, and the pain was becoming manageable, but this sudden realization, the sudden reminder of her hurt me in a way that I had started to forget. 

“Hello? Atkinson?” Malfoy waved a hand in front of my face. “Did you hear me?” 

I blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“I was talking to you for like three minutes. Are you alright?” 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. “What were you saying?” 

“I said that I found my sign. I’m a Gemini.” He pointed to the symbol in the book. “Geminis are typically outgoing, adaptable, and intelligent,” he read aloud. 

“It also says here that they’re typically nosy, unreliable, and indecisive,” I pointed out. “Not so great if you ask me.”

He scoffed. “Which one are you?” 

“I don’t know,” I mumbled as I scanned through the dates. “I—” I froze once I saw Sagittarius printed neatly on the page. 

_ Sagittarians are optimistic, hilarious, spontaneous people. They’re honest and fair-minded, and love to talk. They can also be unreliable and naive, and most Sagittarians are easily bored.  _

I felt tears stinging the corner of my eyes as I remembered my mother. The one year anniversary of her death passed during the Quidditch World Cup, but after the whole Death Eater incident, I had been too busy to think about it. I felt awful—how could I forget about my mother? The woman who raised me and loved me and died for me. And even though it has been a year, I missed her so much. There were times where I wanted to talk to her or write to her, and for a moment, I forgot that I couldn’t. I forgot that she was gone. It made think of all the time I had spent with her, and how I had taken it for granted. And sure, maybe I wasn’t dreaming of her anymore, but I hadn’t truly felt the weight of her absence in a long time. And now that I did, I felt like screaming. I felt like screaming and crying and punching a wall. I wanted to talk about it, I wanted to—

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Malfoy asked, interrupting my inner monologue. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. 

He frowned, clearly not believing me. “Are you sure? You went all silent for a moment. You can talk to me if you want.” 

I stared at him, taking his words in. He shifted uncomfortably. 

“Or not, you don’t have to—”

“My mum loved astrology,” I blurted, not quite sure why I decided to trust him. “She loved reading horoscopes and telling us what our good traits were and what the moon said about us. She loved it.”

“Oh—I didn’t know.” He brushed some of his hair out of his face. “That must be awful.”

“And the worst part is—I don’t remember what she told me. Dad and I never really cared for astrology, kind of like how she never cared for chess. When she talked about it, I never really paid attention. I mean, I should know my sign, right? If she loved it so much, I should know it.”

“It doesn’t really work like that,” Malfoy said gently. “At least, I don’t think it does. You weren’t trying to be mean or anything. And to be honest, astrology is kind of a bore.”

I let out a weak laugh. “I know. It’s just a lot. I haven’t really thought about her in a moment, and it all came back.” I broke eye contact. “And now look at me. I’m bothering you with my sob story.”

Malfoy leaned in. “You’re not bothering me. I did ask what was wrong.”

I sighed. “I know. Let’s, uh—get back to work. I still need to find my zodiac sign.”

He cleared his throat. “Right. When’s your birthday?”

“March 30.”

“March 30, March 30…here it is—Aries.” He pointed at the section. “Aries are bold, passionate, ambitious, and blind optimists. They’re also reckless, overly competitive, and have a bad temper.” He finished reading, turned to face me, and tilted his head. “You know, I don’t see it. You aren’t really a blind optimist. Or competitive. Or ambitious. Or—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” I interrupted. “I’d say Gemini’s pretty spot on for you, though.”

“It’s all rubbish anyway,” he remarked. “I mean, what can a stupid sign tell us about ourselves? It’s just a guess. I know a couple of Geminis who couldn’t be less outgoing or intelligent.”

“Don’t let Trelawney hear you say that,” I joked dryly. 

He let out a snort. “I don’t really care. What’s she going to do to me? Attack me with tea leaves?”

I laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Green,” he said after a moment of silence. I didn’t even have to ask what he meant—I already knew. 

∆ ∆ ∆

After a rather destructive Potions class (Snape seemed to have grown more bitter over the break), we headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Although I missed Lupin, I was excited to see what he had planned. The four of us hurried to the front of the room, and took out our books, eagerly awaiting the lesson. 

Soon, Moody’s distinct clunking footsteps were heard, and he entered the room with a neutral expression. “You can put yours books away,” he growled. “You won’t need them.”

Moody wrote his name on the chalkboard and cleared his throat. “Right then. I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures—you’ve covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that correct?” 

Everyone nodded their heads.

“But you’re very behind on dealing with curses,” he continued. “So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark—”

“You aren’t staying?” Ron blurted incredulously. 

Moody smiled. “You’re Arthur Weasley’s son, eh?” Ron nodded. “Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago. Anyway, I am only staying one year as a special favor to Dumbledore. One year, and then back to my quiet retirement.”

He let out a dry laugh and clapped his hands together. “Let’s get into it. Curses come in many strengths and many forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year—you’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with them until then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves. He reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to use an illegal curse on you won’t tell you what he’s about to do. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I’m talking.”

Lavender nearly jumped out of her seat. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. 

“I guess his eye can see through wood,” I muttered to Hermione, who nodded in agreement. 

“So… do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?” he asked. Several hands rose into the air, including Hermione’s and Ron’s. I knew one, but I didn’t really feel up to talking about it, especially since it had taken my mother’s life. 

“Weasley.”

“My dad told me about one,” Ron said slowly. “The Imperius Curse.” 

“Ah, yes,” Moody sighed. “Your father would know about that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time.” He opened his desk drawer and took out a glass jar with a single spider inside it. Moody put the spider into the palm of his hand and then pointed his wand at it.  _ “Imperio!” _

Using his wand, he lifted the spider into the air. He had it fly around the classroom, doing various acrobatic tricks and flips. The class roared with laughter. 

“Think it’s funny, do you?” Moody grumbled. “Would you like it if I did it to you?”

The laughter died instantly, and we all shifted in our seats uncomfortably as Moody continued to control the spider. For someone who hated the curse, he seemed to be enjoying himself…

“Total control,” he mumbled. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…” 

I felt Ron shudder next to me. 

“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” Moody informed. “They claimed that they only did You-Know-Who’s bidding because of it. Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.” 

He stopped the spider in the middle of a cartwheel and let it relax for a moment. “The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how—”

“He’s going to use the curse on us?” Hermione hissed, turning white. “B-but that’s illegal! And there’s no way—”

“CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” Moody shouted, making everyone jump in their seats. “Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?”

Hermione’s hand shot into the air, along with nearly half of the class—even Neville’s, which was odd because he only ever volunteered in Herbology.

“Yes, Longbottom?”

“There’s one—the Cruciatus Curse,” Neville said in a small voice. Moody stared intently at Neville, who looked like he was going to faint. 

“The Cruciatus Curse,” he drawled. “The torture curse. A particularly nasty one.” He placed the spider on his desk.  _ “Crucio!”  _

It was utterly horrific to witness. The spider began to twitch uncontrollably, rocking from side to side. No sound came from the spider, but from the way it was moving, it was obvious that it was in an immense amount of pain. My stomach tensed as Moody continued to torture the spider, causing it to jerk more violently… 

“Stop it!” Hermione shrieked. I turned to face her, and noticed that she wasn’t looking at Moody. She was looking at Neville, who was practically trembling, his eyes wide open with shock. I looked around the room, and noticed that everyone else looked extremely uncomfortable in their seats. 

Moody lowered his wand and looked straight ahead. “Pain. You don’t need knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. It was very popular once too.”

The spider was still twitching on Moody’s desk. A chill swept through the room as we collectively realized what was going to happen next. 

“Any others?” 

Hermione’s hand shook as she raised it into the air. Nobody else did. 

“Yes?”

_ “Avada Kedavra,”  _ Hermione whispered. I sucked in a breath as soon as the words left her mouth. 

“Ah, yes. The last and the worst.  _ Avada Kedavra… _ the Killing Curse.”

He pointed his wand at the spider.  _ “Avada Kedavra!”  _

Several people stifled cries as the green light flashed. I tried my hardest not to scream, overwhelmed by the light that I had only seen once before. 

“No, please!” she cried. “Pepper, I’m sorry! Pep—”

_ “Avada Kedavra!”  _

“Pepper?” Hermione shook my arm gently. “Pepper?”

I snapped out of my dazed state. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“The Killing Curse isn’t nice,” Moody carried on. “There’s no countercurse for it, there’s no blocking it—nothing. In fact, only one known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting right in front of me.” 

All eyes shifted to Harry, whose face quickly turned red. He stared determinedly at the chalkboard, refusing to make eye contact with anybody. 

“ _ Avada Kedavra _ ’s a powerful bit of magic behind it—you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I’d get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn’t matter—I’m not here to teach you how to do it.”

“But he’s here to show it to us?” I murmured under my breath. 

“Now, if there’s no countercurse, why am I showing you?” he asked. “Because you’ve got to know. You’ve got to appreciate what the worst is. You don’t want to find yourself in a situation where you’re facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he roared, and we all jumped again. 

“Now those are three curses— _ Avada Kedavra, _ Imperius, and Cruciatus—are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That’s what you’re up against, and that’s what I’ve got to teach you to fight. You need preparing, you need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills and copy this down.”

We spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the curses. I tried my best to avoid a panic attack, and my notes were completely unintelligible due to my shaking hand. But I didn’t want to cause any more attention to myself, so I just stuck it out. Just when I thought I was going to lose it, the class ended.

A burst of talk was heard throughout the classroom. Most people seemed to be in awe of what they had just witnessed—like it had been some sort of movie or show—but it wasn’t. I hadn’t found it entertaining at all, and neither had Harry or Hermione. 

“Hurry up,” Hermione hissed. 

“Not the library again?” Ron asked. 

“No,” she quipped, pointing at a side passage. “Neville.”

Neville was standing by himself, staring off into space with the same horrified look he had had in class. 

“Neville?” Hermione asked gently.

“Oh hello,” he replied, his voice much higher and shakier than usual. “Interesting lesson, wasn’t it? I wonder what’s for dinner, I’m—I’m starving, aren’t you?”

“Are you alright?” I inquired. “I know it was a rough lesson, and—”

“Oh yes, I’m fine,” he interrupted. “Very interesting dinner—I mean lesson—what’s for eating?”

The four of us exchanged startled looks. 

“Neville, what—?”

There was a loud clunking noise, and Professor Moody limped towards us. 

“It’s alright,” he told Neville. “Why don’t you come up to my office? Come on… we can have a cup of tea…” 

Neville looked even worse at Moody’s offer. Before he could say anything, Moody turned to Harry.

“You alright there, Potter?”

“Yes,” Harry replied rather defensively. 

“And you, Atkinson? I heard about your mother.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. 

He sighed loudly. “You’ve got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you’ve got to know. No point pretending. Come on, Longbottom. I’ve got some books that might interest you.”

Neville gave us a pleading look, but none of us said anything. He walked away with Moody, and we left the corridor. 

“What was that about?” Ron questioned. 

“I don’t know,” Hermione answered. 

“Some lesson, though, eh?” Ron remarked. “He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn’t he? When he did  _ Avada Kedavra _ , the way the spider just  _ died,  _ just snuffed it right there—”

He shut up once he saw the traumatized looks on Harry’s and I’s faces. 

“I miss Lupin,” I mumbled. 

∆ ∆ ∆

“How the bloody hell are we supposed to do this?” I groaned as Harry, Ron, and I stared at our Divination assignment. After we had learned our zodiac signs, Trelawney had given us an hour-long lecture on the movement of planets, and our homework was to work on our predictions for the coming month. But there were so many different symbols and equations, and even with Harry and Ron’s help, I had no idea what I was doing. 

“I don’t know,” Harry sighed. “I haven’t got a clue what this is supposed to mean.”

“You know,” Ron began, “I think we should just wing it.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said, Ron,” I chirped, dipping my quill into some ink. 

“Next Monday,” he mumbled, “I am likely to develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of Mars and Jupiter.”

I giggled. “On Monday, I will… I will… I will receive startling news.” 

“I will be in danger of—er—burns,” Harry added, scribbling on his parchment. 

“Yeah, you will be,” Ron cut in. “We’re seeing the skrewts on Monday. Okay, on Tuesday, I’ll...erm…”

“Lose a treasured possession,” Harry finished, looking at a chart in the book. “Because of Mercury.”

“Pepper, you’ll, uh, experience a traumatic event,” Ron declared.

“What kind of event?”

“Um…oh, I know! You’ll experience a traumatic event at the hands of someone you hate.”

“Works for me.” I scrawled it down. “And Harry will… he’ll get stabbed in the back by someone he thought was a friend. Because—”

“Venus is in the twelfth house,” Harry continued. 

“I’ll come off worst in a fight—”

“Ron, I was going to put a fight,” Harry groaned. “I’ll lose a bet.”

“Yeah, you’ll be betting I’ll win my fight,” Ron quipped.

“And I’ll suffer from a nasty case of… dragon pox,” I concluded. We made up every single prediction, each one growing increasingly more tragic. As I tried to think of something I hadn’t used, I spotted Fred and George in a corner of the room, whispering intently over a piece of parchment. Curious, I stood up and walked over to them.

“What are you two doing?” I asked, sitting down next to them. 

“We’re in a bit of a pickle, Pepkins,” Fred sighed, rubbing his temples. He and George looked  _ stressed _ , which was something that I had never seen before. 

I frowned. “What happened?”

“Remember our bet with Ludo Bagman?” George asked. 

“Yeah, why? Did he not pay you two back?”

“No, he did—”

“But he paid us in leprechaun gold,” Fred huffed. “And leprechaun gold—”

“Vanishes,” I gasped. “So—”

“So it’s gone. The stupid cheat,” George grumbled. “He knew. He definitely knew!” 

“What are you going to do about it?” 

“We’re writing him a letter right now,” Fred answered. “Can you tell us if this sounds too aggressive?”

“Sure.”

_ “Dear Mr. Bagman,”  _ he read aloud,  _ “We would like to inform you that the gold you paid us was fake. We’d like our money, please. _ How’s that?”

“It sounds like you’re accusing him. Maybe you should try something… gentler,” I suggested. 

“You’re right,” he mumbled. “We’ve got to be careful about how we ask. Maybe—”

“Shh!” George hissed. “Harry’s looking.”

Harry was in fact, staring at Fred and George with curiosity. George cleared his throat as he looked back down. 

“We should go. Otherwise, we’ll raise suspicions.” 

Fred nodded. “You’re right. Oh and Pep—”

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise,” I vowed. 

Both boys grinned. “Thanks, Pepkins. We’ll see you later.”

“Goodnight!” I called as I walked back to my table. 

“What was that all about?” Harry asked nonchalantly.

“Oh nothing,” I dismissed. “Just Fred and George being Fred and George.”

Harry opened his mouth once again, but he was interrupted by Hermione’s arrival. She carried a large piece of parchment in one hand, and a rattling box in the other. 

“I’ve just finished!” she exclaimed happily. 

“So have I,” Ron added, throwing down his quill. 

Hermione put her stuff on the floor and sat down with us. She grabbed Ron’s parchment, and read it. “You’re not going to have a very good month, are you?”

“At least I’m forewarned,” he responded with a yawn. 

Hermione let out a giggle. “You seem to be drowning twice.”

“Oh am I?” Ron peered over her shoulder. “I’d better change one of them to being trampled by a rampaging hippogriff.” 

“Don’t you think it’s too obvious that you’re making this up?” Hermione asked. “I mean, Pepper’s going to lose her hair and nails? And Harry’s going to suffer trials and tribulations?” 

“How dare you?” Ron asked in mock outrage. “We’ve been working like house elves here!” 

Hermione raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. 

“It’s just an expression,” Ron added hastily.

I continued to fill out my chart, adding in two near-death experiences and the loss of my left thumb, when Harry asked Hermione what was in her box. 

“Funny you should ask,” she remarked, lifting it up off the floor. She took the lid off and revealed about fifty multi-colored badges that read  _ S.P.E.W. _

“‘Spew’?” I questioned, picking up a green badge. “What’s spew?” 

“Not  _ spew _ ,” Hermione huffed impatiently. “It’s S-P-E-W. It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.” 

“Never heard of it,” Ron commented. 

“Well, of course you haven’t. I’ve only just started it.”

“Yeah? How many members have you got?”

Hermione smiled sheepishly. “Well—if you three join—four.”

“And do you think we want to walk around wearing badges that say ‘spew’?”

I nodded in agreement. “It’s not going to be a good look, Hermione.”

“S-P-E-W!” she exclaimed hotly. “I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status—but it wouldn’t fit. So that’s the heading of our manifesto.”

“That’s a wordy manifesto,” I mumbled as she pulled out her parchment. 

“I’ve been researching it in the library, and elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can’t believe no one’s done anything about it before now.”

“Hermione—open your ears.” Ron exasperated. “They like being enslaved.”

“Our short-terms aims,” Hermione continued, ignoring Ron, “are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they’re shockingly underrepresented.”

“And how do we do all this?” Harry asked. 

“We start by recruiting members. I thought two Sickles to join—that buys a badge—and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. Ron’s treasure—your collecting tin is upstairs—Harry’s secretary—you should probably write this all down—and Pepper’s our social chair—you can plan fundraisers and events!” 

The three of us stared at Hermione. According to what Ron said, house elves  _ liked _ working. And if they liked it, why would we change it? But in a way, she was right, and she had worked hard for this organization… I was about to hand over the money when a tapping sound was heard at the window. 

“Hedwig!” Harry cried, letting the bird in. “It’s about time!” 

“She’s got an answer!” Ron shouted excitedly. 

“Open it!” I yelped. “Open it!” 

“What does it say?” Hermione inquired.

Harry ripped open the letter and read it aloud.  _ “Harry, I’m flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore—they’re saying he’s got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he’s reading the signs, even if no one else is. I’ll be in touch soon. My best to Pepper, Ron, and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Sirius.” _

“He’s flying north?” Hermione whispered. “But then that means—”

“He’s coming back,” I finished. “Sirius is coming back.”

Ron furrowed his eyebrows. “Signs? What signs? Does—”

“I shouldn’t have told him!” Harry shouted. 

“What? Why not?” I asked. “I know him coming back isn’t ideal, but—”

“He’s putting himself at risk!” 

“But he’s trying to protect you,” I insisted. “He—”

“I’m going to bed,” he cut off. “See you in the morning.”

“So,” I began awkwardly. “What kind of S.P.E.W events should I plan?” 

∆ ∆ ∆

“Eternal glory,” Ron sighed. “Doesn’t that sound brilliant?”

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I all sat in the Great Hall, watching some of the older students put their names in the Goblet of Fire. I was half-asleep since I had spent the entire night dreaming again. The same dream from the night we came back played over and over again, and I was unable to escape it. I had woken up and fallen asleep at least five times, and every single time I shut my eyes again, the dream was there. And since I didn’t have any Dreamless Sleep on hand, I was forced to wait it out, reliving the horror loads of times. 

“It would be cool, wouldn’t it?” I agreed, shoving the thought of my dream away. 

“Better you two than me,” Harry replied. 

At that moment, the doors swung open, and Fred and George burst in and sat down with us. 

“Done it,” Fred whispered. “Just taken it.”

“Taken what?” I asked. 

“An Aging Potion,” George replied. “One drop each since we only need to be a few months older.”

“It’s not going to work,” Hermione chimed. Fred and George exchanged amused looks. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that Hermione?” 

Hermione sighed. “Dumbledore drew this age line himself. There’s no way that it could possibly be fooled by something as pathetically dimwitted as an Aging Potion.” 

“Ah, but you see, that’s why it’s so brilliant,” George countered. “Because it’s so pathetically dimwitted.” He jumped to his feet. “Ready, Fred?”

“Ready, George!”

Both boys jumped into the circle, and nothing happened. The room burst into cheers again and they put their names into the goblet. Nothing happened, which caused another round of applause. But their glory was short-lived. After a few seconds of celebration, the goblet spit out their names and threw them backwards. They both sat up and I was both shocked and amused to discover that they had sprouted long white beards. 

“I guess you were right,” I whispered to Hermione, who was giggling uncontrollably next to me. 

“I know.”

George felt his face and gasped. “You said—”

“No  _ you _ said—”

They began to wrestle each other on the floor while everyone in the Great Hall crowded around them, eager to see them fight. But after a few seconds of their brawl, the crowd dispersed to make space for Viktor Krum, who held a piece of parchment in his hands. We were all silent as we watched him drop it in. Then, he turned to Hermione and eyed her with interest before turning around and walking out of the Great Hall. 

“What was that?” I asked incredulously.

“What was what?”

“Don’t be stupid! Viktor Krum just stared at you!”

“He does have eyes—”

“Not like that,” I interrupted. “Didn’t you see him eyeing you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Pepper,” she replied, opening her book. “It was nothing like that.”

I didn’t say anything else, but I had a feeling that Hermione was wrong. 

“I’m going to take Fred and George to the Hospital Wing,” I sighed. “I’ll see you later.”

I walked up to the twins—who were in the corner of the Great Hall—and grabbed their arms. 

“Come on. Let’s have Madam Pomfrey fix those beards.” 

“I don’t know,” Fred effused. “I’m kind of digging it now.”

“Yeah, well you look like Dumbledore,” I remarked. “And that’s not really a good thing.” 

“But—”

“Just walk.”

“So the Aging Potion didn’t work,” George began. “What else can we do?”

“I dunno. Maybe we could try getting an expert potion from Snape—”

“Whatever you do, just be careful. I don’t want to hear that you’ve sprouted an extra limb or something.” 

“Don’t worry,” Fred dismissed as he opened the door to the Hospital Wing. “We’ll be careful. See you later, Pepper. Oh, and you should start brainstorming some new pranks. We haven’t caused that much mischief yet.” 

I nodded. “Will do. See you.”

“Hi, Madam Pomfrey,” George greeted brightly. 

She gasped. “Dear Lord, what did you two do this time? Have you no respect for the rules? I swear—”

As Fred and George walked in, Malfoy sauntered out. “What happened to them?” 

“Aging Potion gone wrong,” I explained. “They tried to get past the Age Line.”

He let out a derisive scoff. “Like they’d ever get chosen.” 

“Fred and George are brilliant,” I defended. “We’d be lucky to have either one of them as a champion.”

“ _ I _ wouldn’t. Who’d want a blood-traitor as their champion?” 

“Of course,” I muttered. “Of course. It always comes back to this, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

I felt anger boiling inside of me. Why did he have to be this way? So kind one moment and so cold the other? It wouldn’t have bothered me before, but now it irked me. Why did he have to be so indecisive? 

“To blood status,” I continued. “It always comes back to blood status with you.  _ Why? _ Why do you have to be this way?”

“It’s just the way things are. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.” 

“Yeah, well don’t forget that you’re talking to a Mudblood, you insolent prick,” I spat. 

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Why do you even care? It’s always been like that between us. I’m a Pureblood, you’re a—”

“Don’t say it.”

He stayed silent. “There’s nothing that we can change about—”

“Exactly. There’s nothing we change about it—nothing I can change about it, yet you mock me for it anyways—”

“I don’t—”

“Just go away.”

“I hardly think what I said was wrong,” he insisted. “It’s—”

“God, you are so disappointing,” I sighed.  _ “Go away.” _

His expression shifted to an angry one. “Fine. I wouldn’t want to be seen around a Mudblood anyway.”

“Go away before I touch you. Wouldn’t want the germs settling in, now would we?”

He wrinkled his nose. “No we wouldn’t.” 

As he strode off, I found my mind swirling with emotions. Anger, frustration, loathing, but the most prominent of them all—

Sadness. 


	34. Ruby

_ Tell me that I’m alright, that I ain’t gonna die  _

“You  _ what? _ ” Hermione shrieked. 

We were on our way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Harry had just told us that he had told Sirius that he had imagined his scar hurting, and Hermione wasn’t too pleased to say the least. 

“That was a lie, Harry,” she scolded. “You didn’t imagine your scar hurting and you know it.” 

“So what?” Harry retorted sharply. “He’s not going back to Azkaban because of me.”

“Dumbledore will—”

“Dumbledore can’t fix everything,” I said gently. 

“But—”

“Drop it,” Ron hissed, and for once, Hermione obliged. 

We entered the classroom and took our usual seats in the front. Moody’s class was one of our more challenging classes, especially with his approach to the curriculum. 

“Today, we’ll be learning about the Imperius Curse,” he growled. “I’ll be putting it on each of you, and you’ll try your best to resist it.”

“But—but you said it’s illegal, Professor,” Hermione squeaked. “You said—to use it against another human was—”

“Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like,” Moody interrupted. “If you’d rather learn the hard way—when someone’s putting it on you so they can control you completely—fine by me. You can leave if you’d like.”

Hermione went pink. “I-I don’t want to leave.” 

“Good. Let’s begin, then.” 

I watched as everyone was called up and had the Imperius Curse put on them. Crabbe sang an opera song, Ron spoke in fluent Spanish, Hermione ripped a book in half, and Neville did a series of complex gymnastics that I knew he couldn’t normally do. After a dizzy Neville walked to his seat, it was my turn. 

I stood and walked to the front of the room, wondering what he’d make me do. Maybe I’d have to imitate an animal, or maybe I’d be forced to run laps around the room. But whatever it was, I wasn’t looking forward to it and I knew I wouldn’t be able to fight it off… 

_ “Imperio!” _

I immediately felt relaxed. It was like every thought in my head floated away, and a wave of happiness came over me. It was an odd feeling—the opposite of what the dementors made me feel. After a few moments of uninterrupted bliss, I heard Moody’s voice slip into my mind. 

_ Let’s see, let’s see… what should we have you do? Ah, I know. Let’s have you punch someone. But who? How about Weasley? You seem close. Granger? Same thing. Malfoy? Thomas? Potter? Yes. Punch Potter. Punch him as hard as you can in the jaw.  _

I didn’t want to punch anybody, but my body did not follow my mind. I shouted at myself as I stepped towards Harry, who looked rather alarmed. 

“W-what are you—OW!” I swung my arm back and punched him with as much force as possible. A loud crack was heard, and Harry let out a yelp of pain. 

Moody lifted the curse and let out a sinister chuckle. “What a punch, Atkinson. You alright, Potter?”

“Of course he isn’t!” I fumed. “You made me hit him! And look at his jaw!” I pointed to his swollen face. “Why would you make me hit him? That’s completely inappropriate and—”

“Relax, Atkinson,” Moody dismissed. He muttered a spell under his breath and Harry’s jaw was healed. “He’s fine.”

“He was  _ not _ —”

“Pepper, I’m fine,” Harry muttered. “It’s fine.” 

Moody nodded. “Potter! You’re up!” 

Much to nobody’s surprise, he was able to resist it for a moment before caving and slamming his head onto a desk. 

“Look at that!” Moody exclaimed. “Look at that! He nearly did it! Go again, Potter.”

“But—”

“Go again.”

“I can’t believe him!” I exclaimed as we left class later that day. “What kind of teacher does that?” 

Hermione nodded in agreement. “I don’t think it was right that he practiced the curse on us. I mean, it is illegal for a reason…”

“Are you alright, Harry?” I asked. “I feel terrible. I swear that I tried to resist—”

“It’s okay, Pepper,” he interjected. “Really. I don’t feel anything at all.”

“He’s insane!” I continued. “He’s actually insane! Putting you through four rounds of the curse? That’s too much.”

“And the way he talks,” Harry added, “you’d think we were all going to be attacked any second.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ron agreed. “Talk about paranoid. And when are we supposed we supposed to read up on resisting the Imperius Curse with everything else we’ve got to do?”

The workload had gotten significantly harder than last year’s. Professor McGonagall explained why when the entire class groaned at another lengthy assignment. 

“You’re entering an important phase of your magical education! Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer—”

“We don’t take O.W.L.s until fifth year!” Dean protested. 

“Maybe not, Mr. Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that yours curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a needle!” 

Hermione turned pink, and tried not to look too pleased with herself. It was futile, really. We all knew she was. 

Divination was easily the highlight of my day. Harry, Ron, and I earned top marks on our homework assignment, and she even read parts of it aloud. 

“Next Wednesday, Pepper predicts that she will lose her left thumb due to Mars being in the ninth house,” Trelawney read. “This is brilliant! Listen, children—listen to the way she accepts her wretched fate!”

“Rubbish,” Malfoy said quietly. 

“You’re just jealous I beat you,” I retorted.

He scoffed in response. “You only beat me because you were  _ lying _ . My predictions are as good as fact.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Towards the end of next month, I will see a dangerous creature,” he said proudly.

“Seeing yourself in a mirror doesn’t count,” I reminded him. 

“I’m serious!” he exclaimed. 

“Of course you are.”

“Just wait and see,” he huffed. “Wait and see.”

After a particularly rough Potions class (Snape hinted at one of us being poisoned), we went back to the common room, where Hedwig was waiting for Harry with a fresh letter.

_ “Nice try, Harry,”  _ Harry read aloud,  _ “I’m back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that’s going on at Hogwarts. Don’t use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don’t worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don’t forget what I said about your scar.” _

“Why do you need to keep changing owls?” Ron asked.

“Hedwig will attract too much attention,” Hermione answered immediately. “She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he’s hiding… I mean, they’re not native birds, are they?”

Harry set the letter down and frowned. “He’s back.”

“Don’t worry, Harry, he’ll be fine,” I reassured.

“I hope so. I’ll never forgive myself if he gets sent back to Azkaban just because of me.”

∆ ∆ ∆

We sat in the Great Hall, eagerly awaiting the choosing of the champions. Harry, Ron, and I were trying to guess who would be chosen while Hermione sulked in the corner. Hagrid had refused to join S.P.E.W, insisting that house elves were happy with their current status. 

“And now, the moment you have all been waiting for,” Dumbledore announced once everyone was seated. “The champion selection!” 

He walked over to the bright blue goblet. The flames turned a deep ruby red and spit a piece of parchment into Dumbledore’s hands. 

“The Durmstrang champion is Viktor Krum!” 

The hall burst into applause. Krum stood from his seat, where practically every student congratulated him, and walked proudly to the backroom, where the champions were to gather for further instruction. 

The chattering died down, and a second piece of parchment shot out of the goblet.

“The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!” 

A pretty tall blonde girl stood gracefully from her seat. Practically every male eye was glued to her as she strutted to the back, clearly content with her victory. 

“Bloody hell,” Ron murmured, his eyes following her. 

“Oh look,” Hermione remarked. “Some other students are disappointed.” Several students had dissolved into tears, and others looked furious as Fleur left the main room. 

The goblet turned red once more, and produced the third piece of parchment. Every single Hogwarts student waited anxiously to see who would be representing them.

“The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!” 

Every single Hufflepuff was screaming and stamping their feet as Cedric rose from his seat with a beautiful grin on his face. 

“Excellent!” Dumbledore shouted. “We now have our three champions! But in the end, only one will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice of champions, this vessel of victory, the Triwizard Cup!” 

Just as the shiny blue trophy was unveiled, the goblet of fire turned red again. Everyone stared in confusion as it spit out a  _ fourth _ name. Dumbledore opened it and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Harry Potter.” 

I immediately turned to Harry, who was frozen in his seat, a bewildered expression on his face. Ludo Bagman and Igor Karkaroff both approached Dumbledore, and the three of them whispered intently as Harry remained seated. 

“I didn’t put my name in,” he said weakly, turning to us. “You know I didn’t.”

The look on Harry’s face told me that he wasn’t lying. “We kn—” 

“Harry Potter!” Dumbledore called again. “Up here, if you please!” 

Harry stayed glued to his seat. I nudged him gently. “Go on.”

Harry slowly stood to his seat and walked to the back chamber. As soon as he was gone, the students broke into whispers and the teachers followed Harry.

“I don’t believe it,” Hermione muttered. “I don’t believe it.”

“ _ I _ don’t believe he didn’t tell us!” Ron exclaimed. “We’re supposed to be his friends!” 

“But Harry said he didn’t put his name in,” I reminded him. “And besides, he hasn’t really shown much interest in entering—”

“Oh rubbish!” Ron interrupted. “He wants more glory—as if he hasn’t gotten enough over the past few years!” 

“Ron, I don’t think—”

“He did it,” he glowered. “He did it and he didn’t tell us.”

Dumbledore dismissed us shortly after that, and we left the Great Hall. Most students were deeply disgruntled by what had just happened, but Gryffindor House was thrilled. They cheered all the way back to the common room, reveling in Harry’s win. 

While everyone talked about it, I sat on the couch, eagerly awaiting Harry. Most people believed that he had entered his name, but there was something about his face—something that told me he didn’t enter the tournament himself. But if he didn’t enter himself, then who did? 

Harry returned to the common room shortly after we arrived. He was immediately bombarded by other students, all of them asking how he had managed to get past Dumbledore’s age line. 

“I didn’t,” he said over and over again. “I didn’t put my name in.”

But nobody seemed to believe him. I tried to get his attention, but he got frustrated at everyone’s attempts to celebrate and stalked upstairs. I sighed and resolved to speak to him first thing in the morning. Hopefully by then, Ron would come to his senses.

∆ ∆ ∆

Ron did not come to his senses the next morning. In fact, he was angrier than he had been yesterday. He ranted about Harry the entirety of breakfast, to which Hermione listened intently. I, on the other hand, had to restrain myself from stabbing him with my fork. 

Harry did not show up to breakfast, so I wrapped up some toast in a napkin and headed to the common room with Hermione. Since he didn’t come, I assumed that he needed someone to talk to or at the very least, some breakfast. We found him right by the portrait hole. 

“We brought you breakfast,” I said, handing him the toast. “Want to go for a walk?” 

Harry smiled. “Good idea.” 

The three of us walked in silence toward the Black Lake, ignoring the stares from random students. As he ate, Hermione told us everything that had happened after he and I had gone to bed. 

“But you two believe me, right?” he asked after 

“Of course we do!” I cut in. “I saw the look on your face when they called your name. If you had really entered it, you would’ve been thrilled.”

Hermione nodded. “Pepper’s right—we don’t doubt you. But the real question is, who did put it in? Because Moody’s right—I don’t think any student could have done it. They’d never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore’s—”

“Have you seen Ron?” Harry interrupted. 

“Er—yes—he was at breakfast,” Hermione stuttered. 

“Does he still think I entered myself?”

“Well—no, I don’t think so—not really.”

“He does,” I deadpanned. 

Harry’s eyes widened. “Why—”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione interrupted. “He’s  _ jealous _ .” 

“Jealous? Jealous of what? He wants to make a fool out of himself in front of the whole school?”

“Look,” Hermione sighed, “it’s always you who gets all the attention, you know it is—”

“—not that it’s your fault,” I added quickly, seeing Harry’s furious expression. 

“I know you don’t ask for it,” Hermione continued, “but—well—you know, Ron’s got all these brothers to compete against at home, and you’re his best friend, and you’re really famous—he’s always thrown to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many—”

“Great,” Harry grumbled. “Really great. Tell him from me I’ll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he’s welcome to it—to people staring at me wherever I go—”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m— _ we’re _ —not telling him anything, right, Pepper?”

“Actually, I—”

“They need to sort this out themselves, right—”

“Well—”

“I’m not telling him anything!” Harry exclaimed hotly, cutting me off once again. “I’m not running around after him trying to make him grow up! Maybe he’ll believe I’m not enjoying myself once I’ve got my neck broken or—”

“That’s not funny,” Hermione cut in, looking rather anxious. “That’s not funny at all.”

“Hey, Harry, you know what you should do when we get back to the castle?” I remarked.

“Give Ron a good kick up the—”

“Write to Sirius. You promised to keep him posted, remember?”

“I can’t. He came back to the country after I told him that my scar hurt. He’ll probably come bursting into the castle if I tell him someone’s entered me in the Triwizard Tournament—”

“He’d still want to know,” I insisted. “And he’s going to find out anyway—”

“How?”

“Harry, this isn’t going to be kept quiet. The tournament’s famous—I’d be surprised if there isn’t anything about it in the Daily Prophet, especially since you’re in it,” Hermione explained. 

“And I know that Sirius would rather hear it from you,” I added. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll write to him,” he conceded. “Whose owl am I going to use? He told me not to use Hedwig again.”

“Ask Ron if you can borrow—”

“I’m not asking Ron for anything, Hermione,” he replied flatly. 

“Just borrow one of the school owls, then.”

We went up to the Owlery, where Harry sent Sirius a quick letter. While Harry wrote to Sirius, I decided to write to Lupin about Moody—I figured he’d like to know. As I wrote, I remembered that I hadn’t practiced my Patronus in a bit, and I vowed to practice some more. 

After we sent the letters, Hermione needed to go study in the library, so I went back to the common room with Harry. He sank into an armchair in the corner, and let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Me? I’m fantastic,” he quipped sarcastically.

“Look, I know you’re probably terrified,” I expressed, “but we’re all here for you. I’ll help you in any way I can. You know that you can count on me—on  _ us _ —right?” 

He snorted. “Ron—”

“Ron’s being a git right now. He’ll come to his senses,” I continued. 

“I just thought he’d be on my side.”

“And he will be. Just give him time to sort out his angst.” 

Harry sighed again. “I’m not looking forward to class tomorrow. Everyone’s going to stare and whisper and—”

“If they even look at you funny, I’ll hex them,” I vowed. “Or I’ll slip them a Ton-Tongue Toffee.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Thanks.”

I touched his arm gently. “I mean it, Harry. You’re my best friend. I’m here for you—I always will be.”

“Thank you, Pepper,” he smiled. “Thank you.”

“Now, let’s do our Divination homework. We need to brainstorm more tragedies.” 

“I have a few in mind,” he said. “After all, it does seem likely that I’ll die soon.”

Harry and I’s charts were much more elaborate than last time, but it took us much longer. As I scribbled down my last prediction, Fred and George came over, and we read them our charts. 

“Next week, I’ll lose my right eye because of a flobberworm,” Harry read. “And after that, the flobberworm will reappear in my morning pumpkin juice.” 

“That’s a bit far-fetched, don’t you think?” Fred questioned. 

“Wait ‘til you hear mine,” I giggled. “Next week, I will suffer a spinal injury from the squid in the lake. And after that, I’ll suffer long-lasting trauma from a simple potion.” 

“Oh, and starting next Tuesday, I won’t have a left leg,” Harry added.

“I’m losing an ear on Friday.” 

“And I will suddenly find myself stuck in an inconvenient dancing situation,” Harry finished. 

“You’re in for quite the month,” Fred chuckled. “Can’t wait to help you hobble about the castle, Harry.”

“Hey, what about my spinal injury?” I asked. 

“Madam Pomfrey can fix that in no time,” George dismissed. “But we will help you with your sudden loss of hearing, Paprika.” 

“Gee, thanks,” I muttered, rolling up my parchment and slamming my book shut. 

“I’ve got to go return a book to the library,” George groaned, standing up. “Madam Pince isn’t too pleased with us right now, though.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “Why?” 

“They slipped Roger Davies a Ton-Tongue Toffee, and his tongue destroyed a book,” I answered. “The worst part is, they did it without me.” 

“You were in class!” Fred protested. 

“It was History of Magic! Binns wouldn’t have noticed!” 

“Fine, fine, fine. Next time, we’ll kidnap you. Happy?” 

“I guess,” I teased. 

“Do you think she’s still mad?” Fred asked. “What if she fines us?”

“I can take it for you,” I offered. “I need to get something for class anyways.” 

“Pepper, you’re a life-saver,” George grinned. “We owe you.”

“Just don’t leave me out of any pranking next time,” I replied. “I’ll see you all at dinner.” 

I grabbed George’s book and walked to the library, wondering if Madam Pince was still angry. To be fair, Fred and George weren’t really the ones to destroy the book—and it wasn’t even a valuable book. Hogwarts had at least ten copies of  _ Hogwarts, A History _ . 

I placed the book on the reception desk and slid it towards Madam Pince. “I’d like to return this, please.” 

She frowned. “Your name isn’t in here.”

“I’m returning it for George Weasley.”

Her frown deepened. “Why can’t he do it?” 

“Oh—well, you see—he’s uh—he’s busy right now.”

“With what?” 

“Homework.” 

“You’re lying,” she accused. “George Weasley does not do homework. He’s avoiding me, isn’t he?”

“No, he’s just pranking someone, okay? Can you take the book or not?” 

“Yes, but let Fred and George know that I need to be reimbursed.” 

“How much?” 

“2 galleons.”

I fished two gold coins out of my pocket. “There you go. Now, where can I find a copy of  _ Flesh-Eating Trees of the World _ ?” 

She begrudgingly took the money. “By the Herbology section in the back.”

“Thank you.” I made my way to the back of the library, passing a few Ravenclaws deep in thought, and some Gryffindors trying to balance books on their heads. The back was empty except for one sole Hufflepuff, who was fast asleep on her table. 

I scanned the shelves, searching for the book. Professor Sprout had recommended it to study for our upcoming exam, and I normally wouldn’t bother, but my Herbology grade was at an all-time low after I flunked the pop quiz on bubotubers. After five minutes of searching, I started to get highly irritated. 

“Where the hell is that stupid book?” I muttered angrily. “It should be right in between  _ Magical Water Plants of the Highland Lochs  _ and  _ The Uses of Fluxweed _ .” 

“Looking for this?” I sighed and turned to see Malfoy clutching the book in his hands. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve just checked it out,” I groaned.

“Actually, I’m bringing it back,” he replied. “Why? Do you need it?”

“Yes—”

“On the other hand, I think I’ll reread it,” he taunted. 

“Just give me the book,” I sighed. “I’m not in the mood for you today.”

“So you’re in the mood for me sometimes?”

“That’s not what I said. Just give me the bloody book—”

“That wasn’t very nice—”

“Neither is calling me a Mudblood,” I spat. “Give me the book.”

He frowned. “You’re still on about that?”

“Believe it or not, Malfoy, I am still upset with you for calling me a slur.”

“But—”

“The book please.”

“Peppermint—”

“Oh my God, just give me the goddamn book!” I shrieked. 

He took a step away from me. “No.”

“I need it—”

“You can’t possibly still be upset—”

“I just want the book—”

“—for something so stupid,” he continued, ignoring me. 

“It’s not stupid to me,” I snapped, taking a few steps closer to him. I tried to yank the book from his grip, but he pulled it away from me in time. 

“Give it to me,” I barked. “I don’t have time for your games.”

He stepped closer to me, holding the book up with one hand. He was dangerously close now, almost as close as he had been during the Quidditch World Cup. My insides twisted and I frowned, not liking the lack of space between us. It felt too tense, too vulnerable, too intimate. But for some strange reason, I couldn’t find it in myself to push him away. 

“If you can get the book from me, then it’s yours. And no magic.” He smirked smugly, clearly thinking that he had outsmarted me. I came to my senses then, smiled in return, and kicked him swiftly in the shin, causing him to groan and drop the book. 

I scooped it up. “You underestimate me, Malfoy.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You never said that wasn’t allowed. So it’s fair game. Maybe next time you should take a page out of the Muggle book—if it doesn’t ruin your precious blood, of course.”

“Pep—”

“Goodbye you utter piece of dung.”

And I left the library, my only regrets being that I should have kicked him harder in the other leg. 


	35. Plum

_ There’s nothing subtle here  _

“Ballycastle Bats.”

“Really?” Harry whispered. “You think?” 

“Yes, with their new Chasers, they have a better chance—” 

“But what about the Pride of Portree? They’ve got strong Beaters—” 

“Chasers beat Beaters—” 

“No they don’t,” I insisted. “If they’re main offense isn’t strong, then—”

“Enough!” Hermione barked. Harry and I turned to face her. “You haven’t done any homework, and it’s nearly ten o’clock!” 

“Exactly,” I replied calmly. “It’s only ten o’clock.”

“You two need to be more responsible,” she chastised. “Have you done any homework? Any at all?”

“We started charms,” Harry said defensively. 

“How much?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Our names.” 

She slammed her book shut. “You mean to tell me that the entire time we’ve been in the library— _ which is four hours— _ you only wrote your names on  _ one _ assignment?” 

We nodded sheepishly. Ever since Harry had fallen out with Ron, we had been hanging out in the library more. Hermione split her time equally between both boys while I was completely on Harry’s side. If he insisted that he didn’t put his name in, then he didn’t put his name in. Hermione didn’t seem to care though, as she avidly tried one to talk to the other. But Ron and Harry being Ron and Harry, both boys vehemently refused. 

“So what have you been doing all this time?” 

“Fantasy Quidditch,” I answered. “We’re betting with some other students and since we’ve both got Puddlemere winning tomorrow’s match, I think—”

“ _ Fantasy Quidditch? _ Are you serious?”

“No, I’m Harry,” he grinned causing me to snicker. 

Hermione frowned. “Look, Quidditch is great—but dear God, not again!” 

Harry and I turned around to see a horde of giggling girls surrounding Viktor Krum. He also spent a great deal of time in the library, which shocked me since I assumed that he’d be working out or something. But every single time we were in the library, he was there too, only a few feet away. 

“He’s not even good-looking!” she muttered angrily. “They only like him because he’s famous! They wouldn’t look twice at him if he couldn’t do that Wonky Faint thing—”

“Wronski Feint,” Harry corrected through gritted teeth. I knew right then and there that Harry missed Ron a whole lot more than he was letting on.

“Same thing!” Hermione snapped, returning to her parchment. As I mentally debated whether or not I should put the Montrose Magpies on my roster, I noticed a blur of ginger-colored hair by the entrance of the library. The hair was short, so it couldn’t be Ginny, and the figure was too short to be Fred or George…

I sprang out of my seat and ran after him, leaving Hermione and Harry in the library. 

“Ron!” I shouted.  _ “Ron!”  _

He turned around with a bemused expression. “Pepper? What—”

I smacked his shoulder. “What are you doing?” 

“What am I doing? What are  _ you  _ doing? You just  _ beat _ me!” he exclaimed. 

“Why are you ignoring Harry?” I demanded fiercely. “Why—”

Ron’s face twisted as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t—it’s not—I—”

“You’re shutting him out when he needs you the most!” I continued. “Do you know how scared he is? No, of course you don’t—because you haven’t been talking to him—”

“Pepper—”

“And he needs you! He needs us! We’re his best friends! We need to be there to support him and to help him if he needs it—”

“Pepper—”

“And you’ve been with him for years, through much,  _ much _ worse, and now you want to ditch—”

“Pepper!” he shouted, his voice bouncing off the corridor walls. The few students in the corridors gave us strange looks as they slowly walked past us, clearly interested in what Ron had to say. 

“What?” 

“You don’t get it.” 

“Then—”

“I—I—it’s complicated, okay? I—”

“You’re jealous,” I blurted, a bit more accusatory than intended. 

He didn’t reply. 

“Ron—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled. “What for?” 

“Ron—”

“Just go back to Harry,” he spat. “We all know whose side  _ you’re _ on.” 

I blinked. “I’m on his  _ side _ because I need to support him when he needs it. I’m being his  _ friend _ .” I flashed him a scowl and spun on my heel, back to the library, where Hermione was still complaining about Viktor Krum’s fan club, and where Harry ultimately decided not to put the Montrose Magpies on his roster. 

∆ ∆ ∆

“Your brother can be a real git sometimes,” I murmured as I rummaged through the trunk. “I mean, who does that?” 

“That’s ickle Ronniekins for you,” Fred chuckled. “But you and Hermione are right. He’s jealous.” 

“I know that,” I grumbled. “But why can’t he just help his friend who  _ clearly _ doesn’t want to be in the tournament—”

“He’s a complicated specimen,” George cut off. “He’ll come around eventually—just give him some time.” 

“Alright, alright,” I sighed. “Now, what are we looking for again?” 

“Stink Pellets. And hurry, or we’re going to miss our window.” 

“Now we know why you weren’t put in Ravenclaw,” Myrtle crooned, watching us from her favorite stall. “A smart person would just use a simple Summoning Charm—” 

“We don’t learn those until the end of fourth year,” I retorted. 

“But those dashing gingers of yours are in sixth year…” 

I stopped digging in the trunk. “She’s right, you know. Help me out!” 

Fred let out a loud laugh. “We were waiting to see how long it would take you to figure that out. She’s right—you’re no Ravenclaw, Pepkins.” 

I scowled. “Tell me something that the Sorting Hat didn’t already tell me.”

_ “Accio Stink Pellets!”  _ Fred muttered, and the small package shot into his hands. He waved them in front of my face and grinned.

“Oh sod off,” I groaned. “Let’s go.” 

After we told Moaning Myrtle her gossip—Anthony Goldstien was caught smuggling a large amount of Muggle marijuana into his dormitory—we left the bathroom and headed towards our destination.

“Are you sure he’s gone?” I whispered. 

“Trust me, he’s gone,” George chuckled. “I told him that Augusta Switch wanted to see him in the library for some mid-afternoon snogging.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And where is Augusta Switch?” 

“She’s back at home—her mother has some rare version of a Muggle disease, and she needs to watch her little brother. She left today.”

I shook my head in mock disapproval. “And you’re monetizing after her own mother’s misfortunes? What nasty people you are.” 

“I’d say you’re even worse,” Fred inputted. “You know all of this, but you’re going along with it.” 

“You two are older than me,” I retorted. “You’re using peer pressure.”

“How can it be peer pressure if we’re older than you? Reason #3 why Pepper isn’t a Ravenclaw.” George teased. 

“Shut up!” 

We walked down the corridors, trying not to attract too much attention. Soon enough, we reached the Hufflepuff common room. 

“Pepper, you keep watch this time,” Fred instructed. “George, you watch the common room, and I’ll chuck these in Swannage’s bag.” 

“Remind me what Malcolm Swannage did to deserve this Stink Pellet infestation,” I remarked as he searched the wall. 

“That git would not shut up about Harry cheating, and we may have slipped some extra Valerian Root into his potion in retaliation—”

“And?”

“And he then proceeded to dump an entire box of Lacewing flies into ours, causing it to explode—”

“Snape,” I concluded. 

“Snape,” they confirmed in unison. 

“Well, the least he deserves is a foul-smelling bag,” I commented. “Go on, now. I’ll shout the safe word if someone’s coming.” 

Fred tapped the bricks of the wall, and the door unlocked. I watched as the boys slipped behind the door, walking as quietly as they could. I sank down against the wall, immediately bored. 

After no more than five mind-numbing minutes, I heard someone clear their throat in front of me. 

“Uh, hello?” 

I snapped my head up and found myself staring directly into Cedric Diggory’s warm eyes.

“Oh—er—hello,” I mumbled, standing up. 

He smiled kindly. “What are you doing here?” 

“I—”

“Wait a minute,” he interrupted. “You’re Pepper Atkinson, aren’t you?”

I blinked. “Yeah, I am. How—”

“You’re Gryffindor’s youngest Chaser in years, not to mention that you’ve saved the school like every year. Everyone knows you,” he replied. “And we briefly met. At the Quidditch World Cup, remember?” 

“No, I know,” I remarked. “I remember you—I just wasn’t sure that you remembered me.”

He laughed lightly. “So what are you doing here?” 

“Me? Oh, I’m just enjoying this fine evening by relaxing. What are you doing here?” 

He furrowed his eyebrows and pointed to his yellow tie. “Me? This is my common room.” 

I mentally slapped myself for asking such a stupid question. “No, I mean, why aren’t you at dinner?” I recovered. 

“Why aren’t  _ you _ at dinner?” 

Touché. “I’m not hungry,” I answered. 

Cedric rocked back and forth on his heels awkwardly. “So what are you doing here?” 

“I already told you—”

“No, I mean  _ here.  _ As in the Hufflepuff common room.” 

“I’m enjoying this evening by playing a round of hide-and- _ seek _ ,” I shouted. Nothing happened. “I’m playing with Fred and George, and they’re faster than a Firebolt—they’re better  _ Seekers _ than Viktor Krum.”

Cedric looked at me like I was insane. “Alright then. It was good to see you.” I heard the door creak and froze. “I’ll—”

“Wait!” I cried, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. Fred and George’s eyes widened as they quietly stepped out of the common room. 

“What?” If he hadn’t been scared before, then he was definitely scared now. 

“I just wanted to… congratulate you!” I babbled. “On being chosen as the Triwizard Champion. That’s pretty, uh, pretty cool.”

He beamed. “Thanks, Pepper.” 

“Make sure you show everyone else who's boss!” 

He laughed again. “What about Harry?” 

“Oh, well, either way, it’d be a Hogwarts win. But it would be nice for Hufflepuff to have some glory, wouldn’t it?” I rambled. Fred and George crept further and further away, waving me towards them. 

“I s’pose it would,” he grinned.

“Oh, well that’s all,” I quipped. “See you, Cedric!” 

“Bye, Pepper.”

I walked slowly at first, careful not to seem suspicious in Cedric’s line of sight, but once I was far enough, I sprinted until I rammed into Fred’s chest. 

“Bloody hell, Paprika, what happened?”

“Cedric freaking Diggory,” I grumbled. “He came back from dinner early for some reason, and I had to distract him. Now he probably thinks I’m deranged.”

“Why?” 

“Why? Because I kept blabbering about Quidditch so you would hear the safe word.”

“My bad,” George apologized. “I got distracted. They keep a bowl of sweets in their common room, and I had to try a few.”

“I hope it was worth it, George,” I muttered. 

“It was,” he effused. “Because I slipped some of  _ these _ in there.” He held up a Ton-Tongue Toffee, and Fred and I grinned. 

“No way!” Fred exclaimed.

“I heard you the first time, Pep,” George assured. “I just needed to put these in the bowl. I couldn’t miss the opportunity.”

“All is forgiven!” I bubbled. “Now let’s go before Cedric bursts out of the common room with a four foot tongue.” 

We returned to the common room, where Harry sat on the couch by himself, reading  _ Quidditch Through the Ages _ . 

“Hello, Hazza,” I drawled, plopping next to him. 

“How was the prank?” he asked. 

“Successful,” I responded. “How was dinner?” 

“The same,” he sighed. “Saved you some dinner by the way.” He nodded towards a plate of Yorkshire pudding.

“Ooo thanks!” I gushed as I grabbed the plate. “You read my mind. I’m starving.” 

As I ate, a tapping noise was heard from the nearest window. I craned my neck to see two unfamiliar owls, one tall and black, and the other tawny and brown. I recognized the tall one to be the owl Harry had used to send Sirius a message. 

“Oh look it’s your owl,” I commented, and let her and the other owl in. The tall one dropped a letter onto Harry’s lap, and the tawny owl dropped one onto mine. 

“Is that from Sirius?” I whispered. Harry nodded. 

“What does it say?” 

He looked around the room, made sure nobody was looking, and then quietly read the letter aloud. 

_ Harry, _

_ I can’t say everything I would like to in a letter—it’s too risky in case the owl is intercepted. We need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Gryffindor Tower at one o’clock in the morning on the 22nd of November? _

_ I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself and while you’re around Dumbledore and Moody I don’t think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore’s nose. _

_ Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can.  _

_ Sirius _

“Well you have to,” I insisted. “He can help you!” 

He nodded. “Yeah—I‘ll write back now.”

“And tell him I said hi,” I added. “Oh, I wish I could see him too.”

“We’ll see him soon. I know we will,” Harry reassured. 

As Harry scribbled a response, I busied myself with opening my own letter. 

_ Dear Pepper, _

_ I must say that I was glad to hear that Mad-Eye Moody was going to be your teacher. However, I was less thrilled when I heard about your experience. I do agree that it was a bit excessive for fourth years but if that’s what Dumbledore said, then we shouldn’t doubt him. You’ll have to bear with Moody. Yes, he can be… overwhelming at times, but nobody knows the Dark Arts like he does.  _

_ I was rather pleased to receive your letter. Unsurprisingly, I don’t usually get much mail, so it was nice to see this. It reminds me of when I was younger…  _

_ Anyway, how’s your fourth year going? Well, I hope? I know Harry’s is far from well what with the tournament and the falling out with Ron… do greet him for me please.  _

_ One last thing before I go—have you made any progress with your Patronus? I understand that you’re probably busy—or no longer interested thanks to the removal of the dementors—but if you have, how’s it going? What about that memory that you tried. Did it work again? _

_ Well, you’re probably sick of me, so I’ll end this here. I hope you’re doing well, Pepper. Send the kindest of regards to everyone.  _

_ Hope you are well, _

_ Remus Lupin _

I felt a pang of guilt as soon as I finished the letter. I had promised myself that I would practice my Patronus, but I never did. I felt like I had wasted Lupin’s time by no longer bothering to practice, and swore to myself that I would have a better Patronus by the end of the year. 

“Lupin says hi,” I told Harry, who was sealing his letter.

“Lupin wrote to you?”

“No, I wrote to Lupin, remember? I just got the response now.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, he said that Moody can be intense, but he’s a good teacher… and he asked how school’s going and about my Patronus—”

“You produced a Patronus?” he pressed. “When—?”

“I didn’t,” I interrupted. “He’s just asking if I’ve made any progress.”

“Have you?”

“No.” 

“No progress at all?”

I considered telling Harry about the wisps, but then I realized that he’d probably ask about my memory, and I didn’t feel like telling him it was about Malfoy. I shook my head. 

“No. Nothing at all.”

I finished my dinner and excused myself to go upstairs. I pulled the curtains on my bed shut and cleared my mind. I gripped my wand tightly, and focused on a happy, Malfoy-free memory. 

_ “Expecto Patronum.” _

__ I waited patiently for something— _ anything  _ to shoot out of my wand, but nothing did. I huffed loudly.

_ “Expecto Patronum. Expecto Patronum.”  _

Nothing. I tried for at least twenty minutes, using every spare memory I could think of. Pranking with the twins, the Quidditch World Cup, staying at the Burrow, my parents, Quidditch, late night chess matches with Harry, Ron, and Hermione—everything. 

Well, not  _ everything _ . But I couldn’t–it wouldn’t work, would it? It’s not like my memories with him were that happy. And if they were, there were definitely others that watered it down. 

Still, it was worth a try. 

_ “Expecto Patronum.”  _

I tried not to be pissed when a small blue shield shot out—especially since I was still mad at him. 

∆ ∆ ∆

“Who can tell me the use of the Pepperup Potion?” Snape drawled one early morning. I was half-asleep for two reasons. One, I had stayed up half the night doing Divination with Harry, and two, once I had gone to bed, I kept thinking about my stupid Patronus, and my stupid memory that involved stupid Malfoy—

“Miss Atkinson?”

I blinked. “W-what?” 

“I asked whether or not you could tell us the function of the Pepperup Potion. It is in your name, after all.”

“Oh—well it…it…”

“It what?”

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

His lips curled upwards. “Pity. 10 points from Gryffindor.”

“That’s not fair!” Seamus exclaimed loudly. “It’s not her fault she doesn’t know the entire textbook.”

“An extra 10 points, Mr. Finnigan.” Seamus opened his mouth to protest, but Dean grabbed his arm and shook his head. 

“Does anybody know what the Pepperup Potion does?” He ignored Hermione, who had her hand up in the air. “Anybody at all?”

Malfoy lazily raised his own hand. “I know, Professor.”

If anybody else had spoken out of turn, they would have been crucified by Snape. But since Malfoy was a Slytherin, he was off the hook. “Do tell us, Mr. Malfoy.”

“It’s used to treat the common cold and to heat up whoever takes it.”

“Finally, someone with common sense. 20 points to Slytherin,” Snape praised. Ron, who just so happens to be sitting next to me, mutters a string of curse words under his breath. 

“Today we’ll be brewing the Pepperup Potion,” Snape continued. “In assigned pairs. You have the rest of the hour.”

In the end, I’m paired with Petunia Vixens, who is actually pretty good at Potions. I laughed when Malfoy got paired with Pansy Parkinson, who immediately latched onto his arm, refusing to let go. 

“First is the bicorn horn,” Petunia said, reading the list of instructions. “We have to crush it.”

“I can do that,” I replied. “You should work on the Mandrake root—it needs to be cut.”

We worked productively in mostly silence, filling the silence with occasional bursts of conversation. I learned that Petunia got a puppy for her birthday in July, and I told her all about the match between Ireland and Bulgaria, and how the Veela nearly cost Ireland the win. 

Once we finished, Snape stalked over to every cauldron, inspecting the potion meticulously. He took 15 points from Neville and Justin Finch-Fletchley because he didn’t like the way it smelled. Neville trembled as he walked towards Crabbe and Blaise Zabini, whose potion was a bright yellow instead of the required red. 

“10 points for effort,” he droned, causing a state of uproar from the other students. 

“Silence!” Snape barked. The class subsidized as he approached Petunia and I’s work. He frowned into the cauldron. 

“This is atrocious.”

I looked into the cauldron and found absolutely no fault in it. “How?”

“It’s not the right shade of red, there aren’t enough bubbles, and there’s no sheen.” 

“You gave Crabbe and Zabini ten points and theirs wasn’t even red!” I protested. 

“They put an extraneous amount of effort into it.”

“Crabbe doesn’t even know how to spell effort!” I shouted. 

“You need to watch your tone—”

“Our potion is easily one of the best ones!” I continued. “I mean, Malfoy’s was frozen!” 

“Last time I checked, we were talking about your potion, Miss Atkinson. Perhaps you should consider controlling yourself before you don’t get any credit at all.”

Petunia tugged the sleeve of my robe. “Pepper, don’t.”

“This is ridiculous. Your mother could have done better than this!” 

Appalled that he brought up my dead mother, I shouted back. “My mother was a Muggle!” 

“Anybody could have done better than  _ this _ . Last time I checked, it wasn’t that hard to follow directions!” 

“Well last time  _ I _ checked, dead people can’t do anything!” I screamed. 

He stiffened. “This is besides that. Your work is mediocre at best. I can’t give it more than an A.”

“An  _ A? _ Are you kidding me?”

His face was hard. “Does it look like I’m kidding?” 

“You can’t give us an A—”

“Last time I checked Atkinson, I was the teacher, not you.”

“Well last time I checked Professor, teachers weren’t allowed to be arrogant, biased bullies that—”

Snape slammed his hands on the desk. “I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOU INSULTING ME IN MY OWN CLASS! 50 POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR FOR YOUR ARROGANCE, MISS ATKINSON!” 

I crossed my arms. “I’m not arrogant for telling you that you’re being biased. I’m being fair.”

“OUT! GET OUT OF MY CLASSROOM RIGHT NOW!” 

“Gladly.” I snatched my bag off the floor and started to storm out of the room, well aware of everybody’s eyes on me. 

“AND DON’T THINK IT ENDS HERE!” he shouted once I reached the doorframe. 

“I didn’t think so,  _ Severus _ .” 

I rushed down the corridors seriously infuriated. Why was Snape being so incredibly biased towards us? Our potion really was one of the best ones, and it deserved way more than an A. 

And it wasn’t just with me. He was only ever remotely nice to Slytherins, and frankly, I was tired of him. I sighed as I walked towards Divination, knowing that I probably had a month of detention for yelling at him. He’d probably make me scrub each classroom in the school with a toothbrush, or he’d—

Someone grabbed my shoulder and spun me around, breaking my train of thought. I sighed once I saw that it was a furious Malfoy. “What the hell was that?” 

“What are you doing here? There’s still ten minutes left of class.” I tried to walk away, not really in the mood for him. I was still a bit peeved about his recent behavior, and I didn’t feel like trying to talk to him.

“He let us out early because he was too angry to finish the lesson,” he explained, jogging to catch up with me. “He’ll probably be in a sour mood for the rest of the week.”

“Did you find me just to tell me that? Because I—”

“No, I want to know why you said that.”

“Because he deserved it,” I huffed impatiently. “My potion wasn’t A-worthy. Crabbe and Zabini’s  _ yellow _ potion got an A.”

“He’s the teacher, Atkinson. You don’t really have much of a say in it.” 

“But that’s just ridiculous!” I exclaimed. “If he’s the teacher, then he should be fair. You and I both know that he didn’t give me a good grade because he hates me. He’s done it before—to Harry, Neville, Petunia, Hermione—and I’m sick of it.”

“But yelling—”

“I’m tired of just letting it happen,” I interrupted. “He never gives me good grades, and it’s only because he hates me. And why he hates me, I don’t know.”

He didn’t say anything as we kept walking. After a moment or two, I broke the silence. “Did he say anything else after I left?”

“He went on a rant about arrogant Gryffindors and how they don’t know when to shut their mouths. After like three minutes, he dismissed us.”

“Wonderful. Everyone probably hates me.”

“Actually, that’s not true.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “What?”

“Everyone was talking about how cool it was that you stood up to him.”

“Really?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” 

“That almost makes me feel better,” I sighed. “But knowing Snape, I probably have months of detention waiting for me.”

“Most likely. But you shouldn’t do that again.”

“Do what? Defend myself?” 

“It’s not worth it. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s still the teacher—”

“Malfoy, you only say that because he never does anything to you.” 

“Even if he did, I wouldn’t say anything.”

“You wouldn’t say anything because you know that your father would fix it for you,” I retorted sharply. “Anything you need, he gives you.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that—”

“Some of us don’t have that luxury,” I continued. “So for some of us, all we can do is help ourselves.” 

For the remainder of the walk to Divination, we were silent. I could tell that Malfoy was angry with me for what I had said, considering that he was walking rather aggressively. But if he was so upset, then why didn’t he just leave? Nobody was forcing him to stay with, and I certainly hadn’t asked him to. I contemplated walking away, but for some reason, that felt oddly aggressive, so I stayed, distracting myself with the crunching sound of the dead leaves underneath my trainers. 

Malfoy walked as slowly as he could possibly manage. He no longer walked like he normally did—which was usually more of a strut. He seemed to be basking in every step like it was his last. 

After an agonizing ten minute journey—it would have been five if he wasn’t so slow—we arrived in the classroom. I dreaded the thought of sitting next to him for two entire class periods. If ten minutes felt like eternity, then what would two hours feel like?

I turned away from Malfoy, staring pointedly at the door. Once Harry entered, he raised his eyebrows at me. 

_ “Later,” _ I mouthed, and he nodded, taking his seat next to Dean. For the sake of everyone’s sanity, Dean and Seamus had offered to switch with Harry and Ron, so the two no longer sat next to each other.

“Today is a fun day,” Trelawney announced once everyone was in the class. “For the past few classes, we’ve been looking at planets and predictions. But today, we’re diving back into zodiac signs.”

Lavender Brown let out a high-pitched squeal and began speaking animatedly with Parvati.

“You will be looking at your sun, moon, and rising signs, and you’ll be looking at compatibility. Which signs would be your friends? Partners? Today, we shall be all-knowing!”

She seemed to expect a great round of applause from the entire class, but with the obvious exception of Parvati and Lavender, everybody was silent. She readjusted her glasses and continued. 

“Work with your partners. Refer to your textbook on how to find this information. I want this by the end of the class.”

I pulled my textbook out of my bag and turned to face Malfoy, who was already studying the chart. I read the page at least three times, but I could not make any sense of its words. I desperately wished to be with Harry because even though I knew that he didn’t understand it either, at least we could be confused together. 

“Did you figure yours out yet?” Malfoy asked, filling in his own chart.

“Oh—uh—no, not yet.”

“Do you know how to do it?” 

“Of course I—”

“Atkinson, don’t lie.”

“Fine. No, I don’t.” 

“It’s not that hard,” he said, sliding his book closer to me. “You just need to use your date of birth and time of birth.”

“What?”

He sighed. “I said—”

“I’m not deaf,” I retorted. “I heard you the first time. But how do you do it?”

“Follow the chart, Atkinson. If you have a certain birthdate combined with a certain time, then you’ll have the information.”

“Er—how?” 

He sighed again. “Let me show you.”

After Malfoy spent thirty minutes explaining the chart to me, and an additional twenty minutes teaching me how to find my signs, I finally found that I had an Aries sun, a Virgo moon, and a Capricorn rising. 

Malfoy snorted. “Makes sense.”

I crossed my arms defensively. “Why?” 

“Well your sun in Aries means that you do your own thing, and I mean, you just yelled at Snape—”

“With fair reason—”

“Your moon in Virgo means that you’re analytical and we all know that’s not true, so—”

“I’ll have you—”

“Are you going to keep interrupting me?” he demanded. 

I sighed. “No, sorry.”

“And a Capricorn rising means you’re put together and mature. Also not true. So it seems like—”

“Astrology is rubbish,” I grumbled. “What about you?”

“I have a Gemini sun, which means I have an ever-changing personality.”

“True.”

“And my Pisces moon says that I’m a sensitive being, which we know is not true.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered, earning an annoyed glare from him. 

“And my Libra rising says I’m social, sweet, and charming,” he concluded.

“I don’t know about that,” I said. “You are far from sweet or charming.”

“You think I’m social?”

“Well, you never shut up, do you?”

“I—”

“Don’t even try to deny it,” I interrupted. “All you do is badger me. You must do the same to everyone else.”

He nodded slowly. “Yes, I s’pose I do.”

“This is so stupid,” I stated as I scribbled down my signs and whether or not they were accurate. “Oh wait, we forgot the compatibility.”

“Gemini is most compatible with…” he flipped through the book. “Libra, Aquarius, and Leo.”

“Only those three?” 

“Trelawney asked for the top three,” he explained. “Why? Are you upset that you aren't there? Aries is next, if that’s any consolation.” 

“It isn’t. Do you know any Libras?”

“No.”

“Aquarius?” 

“No.”

“What about Pansy? Isn’t her birthday in February?” I questioned. 

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know her birthday.”

“Aren’t you like her best friend? She talks to you all the time.”

“Just because she talks to me doesn’t mean I listen.”

I rolled my eyes. “Classy. Know any Leos?”

“I think Daphne Greengrass’s little sister is a Leo.”

“Allison?”

“Astoria.”

“Any other ones?”

“No.”

“Well there you have it,” I murmured. “You’re marrying Astra Greengrass.”

“ _ Astoria. _ And no, I am not. What does yours say?”

“Leo, Sagittarius, and Aquarius. And unfortunately for me, Gemini’s fourth.”

“Know any of the sort?” 

I nodded. “Harry’s a Leo.”

He blinked. “Wait—you and Potter?” 

“Oh no!” I exclaimed loudly. “No!” 

“Then why did you—”

“I was just saying that he’s a Leo,” I clarified. “I would never date Harry.”

He smirked. “That ugly is he?”

“No it’s not that, I—”

“So you think he’s attractive?”

“No—I—shut up.” 

“How about Sagittarius? Aquarius?” 

“I don’t think so. Oh, I think Dean is a Sagittarius. And—oh, Lee Jordan’s an Aquarius.” 

“Are you going to marry them?”

“Oh no,” I replied. “I was just saying.” 

“Now that I think about it,” Malfoy commented, “I think Theodore Nott is a Sagittarius.”

“No, he’s a Gemini too.” Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “We’re friends, I know his birthday. And Capricorn is nowhere near Gemini, idiot.”

He didn’t say anything as he wrote down his answers. Once we finished, Trelawney approached us, cleaning her glasses on her frayed robes. 

“My children, what have you found? Anything… of interest?”

“Well I’m a Gemini,” Malfoy answered. “So my top three are Libra, Aquarius, and Leo.”

“And I’m an Aries, so my top three are Leo, Sagittarius, and—”

“Wait a minute!” Trelawney shrieked, causing the entire class to stare. “Your auras are pulsing.” She walked closer to me. 

“You are going to marry...a Gemini,” she concluded. “You are going to marry a Gemini.”

Before Malfoy could make any snarky remark, she turned to face him. “And you! You are going to wed…a...a Leo!” she shouted. “You will love a Leo like no other.”

I nudged him. “Mrs. Asteroid Malfoy.”

“Dear, you’re not a Leo, right?” Trelawney asked me. 

I frowned. “I told you that I’m an Aries not even five minutes ago.”

She squinted. “Right, right. Are there any Leo’s here? I’m getting a lot of Leo energy by this table!”

A couple of kids timidly raised their hands, and she marched after them, claiming that their energy was immaculate. 

“So when are you proposing?” I teased. 

Malfoy huffed. “You’re just upset because I’m your soulmate but you’re not mine.”

I scoffed, twirling my quill in my hand. “Please. Out of all of the people on this planet, there is no way that you’re my soulmate.”

Before he could respond, I dropped my quill onto the floor and groaned. I bent to pick it up, and was shocked when instead of a light feather, I felt a hand so cold that it sent shivers up my spine. 

I shifted my gaze up, and found an equally shocked Malfoy. He picked up the quill and handed it to me without a word. Feeling rather awkward, I quickly grabbed it. 

I avoided eye contact for a moment or two, but couldn’t resist sneaking a peek out of the corner of my eye. When I looked, I found that Malfoy was turned away from me, running his hand through his hair. 

We didn’t speak for the rest of the class, and I didn’t bother staying around him. Once class was over, I walked over to Harry, who told me that Trelawney had predicted his marriage to a Leo, if he didn’t die young. 


	36. Marigold

_ Could barely tear my eyes away, all you have is your fire _

“Well?”

I put the paper down. “It’s bad.”

“How bad?”

“Pretty bad.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were kidding.”

Harry and I were sitting together at breakfast, reading Rita Skeeter’s article on the Triwizard Tournament. It was incredibly biased, focusing solely on Harry and his parents. I was furious that this woman was trying to monetize his trauma, and Harry was furious that everybody thought he was a crybaby. Hermione sat on the opposite end of the table with Ron, who was also scanning the paper. She seemed to be in some sort of squabble with Ron, because both of them were whispering intently behind the paper.

I turned around and saw most of the Great Hall staring at Harry. They were either blatantly making fun of him or staring at him with sympathetic eyes. 

I grabbed his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

He nodded. “I need to tell you about Sirius anyway.”

We walked out of the Great Hall, looking for a more private place to sit. Last night, Harry had spoken with Sirius in the Gryffindor common room about the Triwizard Tournament, and I wondered what they had spoken about. 

As we walked, people shouted a mix of insults to Harry, which he ignored. I however, threw menacing glares at anybody who spoke against him, and even hexed one Hufflepuff boy. 

“Hey Harry!” Cho Chang called. “You—”

“That’s right!” Harry exclaimed angrily, not realizing who it was. “I’ve just been crying about my dead parents—”

I nudged him sharply, and he paled once he noticed who it was. 

“You—uh—dropped your quill,” Cho explained awkwardly. 

Harry began to turn pink. “Oh—right—sorry.”

“Good luck on Tuesday. I hope you do well.”

“Er—thanks,” he mumbled before grabbing my arm and yanking me away. 

“That was so embarrassing,” he groaned. 

“It wasn’t bad,” I lied. 

“Don’t lie, Pepper.”

“Sorry. Anyway, what did Sirius say?”

Harry explained that Sirius believed that there was someone in Hogwarts who wanted to hurt Harry. Apparently, Igor Karkaroff was a Death Eater and could have been the one to put Harry’s name in the goblet. Sirius said that he might be helping Voldemort on the side, since the Death Eaters were becoming much more active than usual. 

“Wow,” I sighed as we reached a cool, shady spot by a large tree. “That’s a lot to take in.”

“Tell me about it,” he muttered. “I’m tired of people trying to murder me.”

“Hey Harry! Hey Pepper!” Neville stood knee-deep in water, holding up a handful of plants. 

“What are you doing, Neville?” I asked. 

“Looking for these plants!” He exclaimed happily. “I found them in my book!”

_ “Magical Water Plants of the Highland Locs?” _ Harry read. 

“Moody gave it to me when we had tea. It’s very nice—lots of information.”

“It looks cool,” I replied. “What did you find?”

“This special type of flutterby bush—the aquatic version!” he babbled, holding up a clump of plain green leaves. “You can tell because of their spots. Can you see it?”

I could not see anything. “Yeah—very cool, Neville.”

Neville suddenly waved, and I saw Hermione, Ginny, and Ron walking towards us. I waved to Hermione and Ginny, but scowled at Ron, who was too busy whispering to Hermione to even notice. 

“We've already been through enough people, why don't you just go and do it yourself?” Hermione asked him. He shook his head and she sighed. “What do you want me to say again?”

Hermione walked up to where we sat. 

“Hello, Pepper.”

“Hermione,” I replied curtly. “What do you need?”

“Ronald would like me to tell Harry that Seamus told him that Dean was told by Parvati that Hagrid was looking for you.”

Harry stood up angrily. “Is that right? Well—what?”

Hermione sighed. “Uh—” She walked back to Ron, who whispered more things into her ear. 

She returned. “Dean was told by Parvati that—please don't ask me to say it again. Hagrid's looking for you.”

Before I could ask why Hagrid wanted Harry, he spoke. 

“Well you can tell Ronald—”

“I'm  _ not _ an owl!” she hissed, storming away. 

“She sure is an owl for Ron,” I murmured. 

Harry sighed and sat back down. “Why would Hagrid want me?”

“Company?” I offered. 

“Then why wouldn’t he invite anybody else?”

“I don’t know. Guess we’ll find out.”

Harry was silent as he watched Neville comb through more grass-looking plants. I couldn’t help but notice that across the lake, Malfoy sat by a rock, his nose buried into a thick book. 

∆ ∆ ∆

_ “Dragons?” _ I shrieked as we strolled down the corridor the next day. “Are they insane?”

“Seems so,” Harry muttered. “What am I going to do?”

“I have no idea,” I answered. “But we can look in the library for things to do.”

“You should have seen the Hungarian Horntail. It was horrifying.” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“Hagrid said it was bad.”

I sucked in a breath. “That’s bad.”

“I know.” 

“What about everybody else? Do they know?”

“Fleur and Krum do.”

“But not Cedric?” 

Harry shook his head. 

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I have to tell him. He’s the only champion who doesn’t know.”

“That’s nice.”

“I know,” he grumbled. “But he’ll probably know what to do. I don’t.”

“Yet. We’ll figure something out.”

“What is that?” I turned to where he was looking, and saw various people wearing badges that read  _ Support Cedric Diggory—the real Hogwarts champion! _ One Ravenclaw boy caught sight of our gaze, tapped the badge, and smirked. The message changed to  _ Potter Stinks! _

“Oh real funny,” I remarked, stalking over to the boy. I ripped the badge off his robe and threw it to the ground. “How dare you—”

“Pepper,” Harry hissed. “Leave it.” 

I threw one more glare at the Ravenclaw boy—who looked rather frightened—and walked back to Harry.

“You don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“I’m not going to let people walk all over my best friend,” I replied. “That would be really lousy of me.”

“Still—”

“Potter stinks! Cedric rules!” a first year exclaimed, running past us. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Harry warned as he saw me eyeing the kid. 

“Fine.” 

Nearly everybody in the corridor was wearing the badges, mocking Harry as he walked by.

“Who made these?” I questioned.

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, probably some Hufflepuff.”

“Well for people who are supposed to be kind, they’re rather malicious, aren’t they?”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, they are.”

As we reached the doorway, Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott saw us and blocked the exit. 

“Like the badge?” Ernie taunted while Hannah laughed. “We don’t support cheaters here.” 

“Oh that’s funny,” I remarked. “Because last I heard, you cheated on the Herbology test and still failed. Is that why you don’t support it anymore?” 

Ernie immediately stopped laughing. Hannah narrowed her eyes at me. “Everybody knows that you only defend him because you’re in love with him.”

“Is that an actual rumor?”

Hannah nodded. 

I plastered a smile on my face. “Funny how they don’t talk about you, though. It’s almost like you aren’t relevant at all.”

Both Hufflepuffs were now visibly upset. Harry stood next to me, trying not to laugh. 

“Now move,” I demanded. “Before I hex or punch you. Ask Malfoy—it’s not fun.” 

They finally moved, and we trekked through the grassy field of the courtyard.

“Harry, look—Cedric’s right there.” I pointed to a bench where Cedric was laughing with a group of his friends who all donned  _ Potter Stinks  _ badges. “Go tell him. I’ll wait by that tree.”

“You don’t want to come with me?”

“First of all, I’m not a champion, so it’d be weird,” I explained. “And secondly, I’m kind of avoiding him.”

“Avoiding him? Why?” 

“Fred, George, and I played a prank on another Hufflepuff, but it was my job to distract any bystanders—and well, he was there and it got weird—”

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah, I’ll just be over there.”

“Don’t hurt anybody wearing a badge please.”

“I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.”

“Pepper—”

“I swear, I’ll try. But if I’m provoked…”

“Fine, go.”

I marched towards the large tree and sat down, rummaging through my bag for the new chess book Dad had sent me. As I started to read, I couldn’t help but think that Ron would really like it. 

“What do we have here?” Malfoy drawled. I looked up, and found him sitting in a tree, with a flock of other Slytherins surrounding him. 

I looked back down before responding. “Me.” 

I felt rather uneasy. Malfoy and I hadn’t spoken after he touched my hand in Divination, and I was starting to think that he was avoiding me because I had infected him with my Mudblood germs or something. But if that had bothered him, then why hadn’t he said anything before? It wasn’t like he hadn’t before.

“What are you doing here all alone? Did Potter break your heart?”

“I’m trying to read, and for the last time, I’m not dating Harry.”

“Read? Read what?”

“A book.” 

“No really?” he quipped. “What kind of book?”

“How to Get Rid of Annoying Slytherins.” 

“Do they have a Gryffindor version?”

“You don’t need it,” Blaise Zabini remarked. “You always bother her.” 

“Thank you, Zabini.”

“Shut up, Mudblood.” 

“There goes your fifteen seconds of goodness,” I mumbled. “Zamboni’s right, Malfoy. You never leave me alone.”

“Zamboni? What’s a Zamboni?”

“Never mind.” 

“What is a Zamboni?” Zabini asked. “I’m talking to you, Mudblood!” he barked when I didn’t reply.

“Oh, well you did tell me to shut up,” I replied innocently. “And since I’m nothing more than a stupid Mudblood—”

“God, you’re impossible,” he groaned.

“That’s what I always tell you!” Malfoy exclaimed. 

“Yeah but I don’t talk to her,” Zabini pointed out. “You complain about her all the time.”

“You—”

“I do not!” Malfoy interrupted me. 

“Malfoy—”

“Look who’s coming!” Crabbe cried, pointing towards Harry. I quickly snapped by book shut and rushed towards him.

“Harry—”

“Why so tense, Potter?” Malfoy taunted, jumping out of his tree. 

“Let’s go,” I hissed, tugging him along. 

“My father and I have a bet, you see,” he continued. “I don’t think you’re going to last ten minutes in the tournament. He disagrees. He doesn’t think you’ll last five.”

“I don’t give a damn what your father thinks, Malfoy. He’s vile and cruel, and you’re just as pathetic,” Harry spat. “Come on, Pepper.”

We turned around and started to walk away. But we had taken no more than five steps when Moody pushed past us, his wand aimed towards the blonde git himself. 

“I’ll teach you to cast when someone’s back is turned!” he shouted. There was a scream, and Malfoy disappeared. And in his place was a white-blonde ferret. 

People immediately burst into laughter as Moody levitated the startled ferret into the air, bouncing it around. But I didn’t find it funny at all. I mean, sure he was rude to Harry, but did anybody deserve to be transfigured into an animal?

“This is priceless!” Harry chortled. “Can you believe it, Pepper?” 

I laughed weakly. “Y-yeah, I s’pose.”

The ferret let out a squeak as Moody made it do several flips into the air. My stomach churned as I continued to watch. It just didn’t feel right. Weren’t there any other ways to punish him? 

“Stop it!” I shouted before I could even stop myself. Moody kept the ferret in the air, and raised an eyebrow at me. But before he could say anything, McGonagall marched over to the crowd. 

“Professor Moody, what are you doing?” she asked, eyeing the suspicious number of students gathered around. 

“Teaching.” The ferret did several more somersaults in the air. 

McGonagall’s jaw dropped. “Is that… is that a  _ student? _ ”

“Technically, it’s a ferret.”

I grimaced as he shoved Malfoy down Crabbe’s pants. After a few traumatizing seconds in Crabbe’s pants, Malfoy freed himself and tried to scamper away from Moody. McGonagall waved her own wand and Malfoy returned to his human form. He was bright red, and livid. He jumped to his feet angrily. 

“My father will hear about this!” 

“Is that a threat?” Moody demanded, stepping closer to Malfoy. Malfoy paled and sprinted away from the courtyard with his gang of Slytherins close behind him.

“I could tell you stories about your father that would curl even your greasy hair, boy! It doesn’t end here!” 

“Professor Moody, we never use transfiguration as a punishment,” McGonagall chastised. “Surely Dumbledore told you that.”

Moody looked down. “He might have mentioned it.”

“Well remember it,” McGonagall ordered, walking away. 

“What was that?” Harry asked as the crowd dispersed. 

“What was what?” 

“Why did you tell Moody to stop?”

“Harry, that was completely inhumane! Even if it is the git. He could have gotten seriously hurt!” 

“But—”

“I don’t think you would have liked it if it had been any one of us. Am I wrong?”

“No. But it was still kind of funny, you have to admit.”

I forced a smile. “Yeah.” 

Moody walked over to where Harry and I stood. “Potter, come with me.”

“Why—”

“Let’s go,” he repeated, grabbing his arm and dragging him away.

“I need help,” Harry said once he returned from Moody’s office.

“With what? What did Moody say?”

“He told me to play my strengths for the task.”

“Okay…”

“My strength is flying, Pepper. If I can get a broomstick in the stadium, then I can outfly the dragon.”

“But I thought you were only allowed your wand. How are you planning to get a broom?” I questioned.

“That’s where I need help. I need to learn how to do a Summoning Charm by tomorrow.” He stared at me with hopeful eyes. 

“Well don’t look at me!” I exclaimed. “I have absolutely no idea how to perform a Summoning Charm.”

“I—”

“But we both know somebody who does.” 

“Hermione.” 

We jumped up from our seats and rushed to the library, where Hermione was certain to be. Sure enough, we found her in the corner of the library, hidden by a large stack of thick books. 

“Are you hiding?” I asked, peering over the pile. She sighed and nodded.

“His stupid fan club is here again. Why can’t he just read on his own ship?”

“Maybe the library here is better. Didn’t you say that you read that somewhere?”

“It does say in  _ Hogwarts, a History _ that our library is one of the better ones, but I don’t see why—”

“That’s not important right now,” Harry cut in. “Hermione, I need your help.” 

“If this is about that Herbology essay, I told you to do it ages ago—”

“It’s not that. I need you to teach me how to do a Summoning Charm for tomorrow.”

We left the library immediately and headed towards an empty classroom where we practiced for ages. I helped Hermione teach Harry how to summon various objects across the room, skipping lunch to do so. 

“Come on, Harry. You need to concentrate,” she instructed. 

“I  _ am _ ,” he said through gritted teeth as another book fell to the floor. “I just keep thinking of a great big dragon ripping my arm off, though.”

“Just try again,” I interjected. “Stop thinking about the dragon.”

“You say that because you’re going to be safe and sound watching.”

“Stop thinking about the dragon.”

“Alright, alright. Again.”

Harry wanted to skip the next lesson to keep practicing, but Hermione refused to ditch Arithmancy. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with Trelawney (or Malfoy) anyways, so I stayed with Harry to help him practice. 

After an extra hour, we scarfed down some dinner and returned to the empty classroom with Hermione using the Invisibility Cloak to avoid the teachers. We practiced in the classroom until midnight, when Peeves started throwing chairs around the room. We were forced to flee before Filch came stomping around. Thankfully, the Gryffindor common room was empty, so we were able to continue practicing there. 

“That’s better, Harry, that’s loads better,” Hermione yawned, leaning against a wall. 

“Well, now we know what to do next time I can’t manage a spell,” he joked, throwing a rune dictionary at me. 

“Ready?” I asked. 

He nodded.  _ “Accio Dictionary!”  _

The book flew out of my hands and into Harry’s. He held it up and waved it triumphantly. 

“Harry, I think you’ve really got it!” Hermione exclaimed happily. 

“About time,” I mumbled. “I’m happy to help anytime, but my eyelids are starting to droop.”

“I hope it works tomorrow,” Harry voiced. “The Firebolt is going to be farther away than the stuff in here. It’s going to be in the castle, and I’m going to be out on the grounds—”

“That doesn't matter,” Hermione interrupted. “As long as you concentrate, it’ll come.”

“Let’s go to bed,” I suggested. “He won’t summon anything if he’s dozing off.”

“I don’t know if I’m going to summon anything at all.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” I dismissed. “You’ll be fine. I know it, Hermione knows it, and everybody else knows it.”

“But I don’t know it,” he mumbled. I didn’t quite know what to say to that. 

∆ ∆ ∆

“Hermione, stop,” Ron exasperated, putting a hand on her bouncing knee. “You’re shaking the entire bloody stadium.”

I sat next to Hermione, trying my very best to stay warm. The morning of the first task was an unusually chilly November morning, and even with my thick scarf and woolen jumper, I felt the cool breeze of the wind. Ron sat on the opposite side of Hermione, also looking cold. Hermione had insisted that we all sit together to support Harry, and to my great surprise, Ron had agreed. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m just nervous.”

“Nervous?” I questioned. “Why are you nervous?”

“Why am I nervous?” she repeated incredulously. “Harry’s about to battle a dragon!” 

“Well yeah, but he has a plan,” I reminded her. “And he’s going to be fine. You said so yourself.” 

“Pepper, he’s only fourteen! The rest of the champions are of age! They’ve been practicing this type of magic for years!” 

“But he’s Harry! When has he ever failed something important?” I questioned. “And do not say anything about an exam,” I added once I saw her open her mouth. She quickly shut it. 

Her knee continued to shake, and she was now furiously biting her fingernails. I sighed and pulled her hand out of her mouth. 

“We should go visit him,” Hermione gasped. “I bet he needs a bit of company! Are you coming, Pepper?” 

“Yeah. Do you want to come with us, Ron?” I asked. He looked torn for a moment, but ultimately shook his head. 

“He feels bad, you know,” Hermione said as we walked to the champion’s tent.

“Ron?”

She nodded. “He’s starting to realize how dumb this whole thing is, I think.”

“About time,” I mumbled. “Harry’s been miserable without him and quite frankly, so have I.”

We approached the tent and peeked through the opening. 

“I can’t see him,” Hermione whispered. 

“We need to go to the back,” I whispered back. “He’ll probably be there anyways.”

We reached the back, and Hermione pressed her face to the tent. “Psst! Harry!” 

“Hermione!” I hissed. “What if it’s not Harry?” 

“Who else is going to be hiding in the back? Harry!” 

“Hello?” a voice asked quietly. 

“Harry, is that you?” I asked. 

“Pepper? Hermione?” 

“Oh thank God. I would have been mortified if it wasn’t you.”

“How are you feeling?” Hermione questioned. “Okay?”

“Brilliant,” he whispered.

“The key is to concentrate,” Hermione continued. 

“Remember what we practiced,” I added. “And you’ll be fine. Just relax.”

“After that, you’ll just have to—”

“Battle dragons,” Harry chuckled. 

Hermione whimpered and pushed her way into the tent. She tackled Harry into a hug and I stepped inside the tent, awkwardly standing next to them. But as soon as we were fully inside the tent, there was a loud camera flash. 

A blonde woman wearing an expensive-looking dress stood in front of us with an acid green quill floating next to her. “Young love! How… stirring.” 

I let out a snort. “They’re not dating.”

“Oh excuse me!” Rita exclaimed dramatically. “Are you Harry’s girlfriend, strange girl?”

“Uh, no. we’re—”

“Jealousy at its finest!” she beamed. The camera flashed again, capturing the three of us standing awkwardly next to each other. She turned to her quill. “Write that down.”

As the quill scribbled furiously, she turned back to us. “If everything goes unfortunately, you two might make the front page.”

“We are  _ not— _ ”

“You have no business being here.” Viktor Krum stepped in front of Hermione and I. “This tent is for champions… and friends,” he added with a glance directed towards Hermione. 

The woman cleared her throat. “No matter. We got what we wanted.” She walked to the back of the tent, and Krum stalked away.

“Who the hell was that?” I asked.

“Rita Skeeter,” Harry answered. “Also known as a menace to society.”

There was a scramble of footsteps outside, and Dumbledore burst in, a gaggle of other people behind him. 

“Good day, champions! Gather around, please! At last the moment has arrived—the moment only four of you can truly appreciate!” Dumbledore paused and looked at Hermione and I. “Miss Atkinson and Miss Granger, what are you doing here?” 

“So that’s her name,” Rita murmured. “Somebody find her.”

“Oh sorry, sir,” I apologized. “We just wanted to wish Harry good luck. We’ll be going now.”

We scurried out of the tent and rushed back to the seats, which were now packed. 

“Finally,” Ron exclaimed. “We’re in for a rough ride.”

I frowned. “Rough ride? Why?” 

“Atkinson!” Malfoy cried, turning to face us. “Long time no see!” 

I suppressed a groan. “Malfoy.”

“Where were you yesterday? You weren’t at Divination.”

“I had things to take care of,” I replied. Goyle then grabbed his arm and shifted his attention away from me. 

“What is he doing here?” I hissed. 

“He just sat down,” Ron explained. “I thought it was weird though because there were plenty of spots available when he arrived.”

“Typical,” I grumbled. “He probably won’t leave us alone for the rest of the match.”

“Welcome to the first task!” an unidentified announcer shouted into the air, effectively silencing anybody who had been speaking. “Today, each of the champions will battle a dragon. Their job is to retrieve the golden egg protected by the beast. First up will be Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory!” 

“The  _ real _ Hogwarts champion,” Malfoy drawled loudly, earning various snickers from other people. 

“Harry’s a real champion too,” I retorted as Cedric walked out of the tent. 

“Cheating doesn’t count,” Malfoy remarked. “After all, we all know that he found a way to put his name in illegally.”

“He did not! You’re just jealous that—”

“Oh my God!” Lavender Brown shrieked. “He’s on fire!” 

I turned my attention back to the task, where Cedric actually was on fire. He held the golden egg with one arm, and desperately tried to extinguish the fire on his leg with the other. The dragon charged at him, and he booked it across the field, successfully entering the tent without being eaten alive. 

As Ludo Bagman, the commentator, made the final remarks on Cedric’s performance, Hermione frantically turned to us. 

“Do you think he’s okay? He looked really hurt.”

“It was just a burn,” I effused. “It could have been much worse.”

“Who’s next?” she asked. “Is it Harry?”

“Next is Beauxbatons champion Fleur Delacour battling the Green Welsch!” 

Practically half the stadium stood as she gracefully waltzed across the rocky ground. She trembled as she cast a spell at the dragon, who instantly fell asleep. The crowd (mainly those who were standing up), cheered loudly, and she grinned as she rushed to grab the egg. 

“Look at her!” Ron exclaimed. “She’s flawless!” 

As she reached for the egg, the dragon let out a loud snore, and a jet of flames shot out right where Fleur was standing. Her skirt caught on fire, and she shrieked as she tried to pat it away.

“Her skirt!” Crabbe shouted. “It’s getting shorter.”

Everybody who was standing stood a little taller. Fleur’s skirt was getting shorter and shorter, and it seemed like she was forgetting about the very useful Water-Making Spell. 

“Why isn’t she using the water spell?” I huffed.

“She’s probably—”

“Who cares?” Goyle chortled, interrupting Hermione. “It’s better for us anyways.”

“That’s disgusting!” I griped.

“Jealous, Atkinson?” Malfoy questioned, turning around again.

“Of course not,” I snapped. “I wouldn’t want Goyle ogling me.” 

“It seems to me that you’re jealous of her.”

“Why would I—”

“We all know that you want to be a champion with your little boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend! How many times do I have to tell you that?” I sighed. “Now leave me alone.”

“You want me to leave you alone?” 

“Do you want me to say it in French?” I pressed.  _ “ _ _ Laissez-moi seul.” _

“Hey, you!” he yelled at the Beauxbatons girl next to me. “Blonde girl!” 

“What?” 

“What’s your name?” 

“Madeline.” 

“Madeline, could you please switch seats with me?”

“Why—”

“Do  _ not _ listen to him, Madeline!” I quipped. “Don’t!” 

“Please?” Malfoy asked, flashing her a charming smile. 

“What do I get out of it?” 

“Money.”

“And…?” 

“What more do you want?” 

“A date with your friend. The one over there.” She pointed to Zabini, who was very busy watching Fleur.

“Deal.”

“Madeline!” I whined. 

“Sorry, but look at him!” she insisted, pointing at the distracted boy.  _ "C'est très attrayant.” _

“But—”

“Give the poor boy a chance. He’s handsome too.”

“But I—not—he— _ Malfoy— _ ”

Madeline paid no attention to my protests as she swapped seats with Malfoy, and struck up a conversation with a drooling Zabini. 

“Do not talk to me,” I hissed at Malfoy. 

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to talk to you.”

“But I’m a fun guy.”

“No you’re not,” I deadpanned. “And careful, you’re sitting too close.”

He moved closer to me. “So?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Germs, remember?” 

He placed his hand on top of mine. “Guess I’ll get germs then.”

Flustered, I quickly snatched my hand away. “Leave me alone.” 

He laughed, but didn’t say anything else as we watched Fleur walk back to the tent with her head held high. 

“Our third champion is Viktor Krum from Durmstrang, and he will be facing the Chinese Fireball!” 

“Krum’s going to win,” Malfoy stated, tilting his head towards me. 

“How do you know that?”

“Well, it’s Viktor Krum, Peppermint. Who else is going to win?” 

I flinched at the nickname. “Harry? Cedric? Fleur?” 

“They don’t stand a chance. Krum will win this tournament, and we all know it.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled, scooting away from him and closer to Hermione. He was silent for no more than thirty seconds before he began a new conversation. 

“So did it happen?” he asked.

“Did what happen?”

“Did you lose your thumb?”

_ “What?” _

He let out an impatient sigh. “Your predictions, Atkinson. From Divination.”

“Oh, that,” I muttered. “No I didn’t. I made those up.”

“Well they  _ are _ predictions—”

“They’re not going to happen, Malfoy,” I interrupted. “I literally chose the first events that popped into my mind.”

He shook his head. “And somehow you got a better score than me.”

“What can I say? Trelawney loves the drama. Anyways, how about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you propose to Andrea yet?” 

“Astoria, and no, I didn’t, because I won’t be marrying her.”

“But your sign said—”

“Like you said earlier,” he huffed, “Divination is rubbish. There’s no way what that old bat’s saying is true.”

“You don’t know that.”

“When has she ever made a prediction that came true?” 

“Well that one time—”

“When Granger left doesn’t count.”

Hermione’s head shot up at the mention of her name. I shook my head at her and she turned her attention back to Krum, who was running towards the egg. 

“Well—” I paused. He was right. Nothing else she had ever said had come true. “There’s nothing.”

“Exactly,” he recited. “So we can’t really trust her, can we?” 

I shook my head and laughed. “Why are we even talking about this?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I’m bored.”

“You’re bored so you decide to debate Trelawney’s accuracy with me?”

He laughed. “Well I wanted to talk to you. Trelawney wasn’t my target goal.” 

I paused again. “What?” 

He frowned. “What?”

“You just—”

“I just what?”

“You wanted to talk to me?”

He crossed his arms. “I wanted to annoy you, Atkinson. It’s not that complicated.”

“But you said—”

“And he’s got it! Krum’s got it, folks!” 

I whipped my head around to see that Krum was gone. Everybody cheered as Bagman rehashed the details.

I tugged Hermione’s sleeve. “What happened?” 

“Didn’t you see?” 

“No, I—I missed it.”

“He blinded it,” she explained. “Only it squashed a few eggs, so he lost some points. How did you miss that much?” 

“I—”

“It was Malfoy, wasn’t it?” she asked. “Sorry about that. He never leaves you alone, does he?” 

“No he does not.”

“I wonder why.”

“That makes two of us,” I mumbled. “Oh, Harry’s next!” 

Malfoy snorted. “It’s time for the last few minutes of his life.” 

I shot him a poisonous glare. “He can do this. He  _ will _ do this.”

“Whatever floats your boat, Peppermint.”

I frowned and turned away from him, determined to watch Harry the entire time. I could not believe that I had missed the entirety of Krum’s turn because I was busy talking to Malfoy.

Everyone was silent as we watched Harry—who was significantly smaller than all of the other champions—slowly walked out of the tent. I felt Hermione hold her breath, and I clenched my jaw, watching anxiously. 

Harry’s dragon was much more frightening than all the others. She was a great big scary creature with spikes covering her entire body. Harry stuck out his hand, and Hermione gripped my arm, the two of us waiting for the Firebolt to fly into his hands. 

For a moment, nothing happened. I started to think that the broom was not going to come when I saw it zoom past the commentator box. Harry caught it, earning loud cheers from the audience.

“I don’t believe it!” Malfoy muttered to himself as Harry swung one leg over his broom. I didn’t say anything, but I reveled in his disappointment for a minute. 

Harry flew this way and that, trying to trick the dragon. He avoided injury for the most part, only earning a nasty cut when one of the spikes dug into his shoulder. But after five minutes, he was able to grab the egg and fly out of the dragon’s reach. The crowd burst into applause. 

“Can you believe it?” the Bagman announced. “The youngest champion is the quickest to get his egg! This is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!” 

I turned to Malfoy with a haughty expression on my face. “Well? I thought he was going to lose.”

Malfoy’s face twisted. “Oh, don’t—”

“Admit it. You were wrong, and I was right.”

“I will do no such thing!” he protested. 

I laughed. “Someone’s a sore loser.”

∆ ∆ ∆

Harry and Krum tied for first place, much to nearly everybody’s delight. Gryffindor house threw a party in the common room, complete with fireworks and butterbeer. 

“We knew you wouldn’t die, Harry,” George quipped as he and Fred carried Harry above their shoulders. 

“Or lose a leg,” Fred added.

“Or an arm.”

I laughed and grabbed a glass of butterbeer. “What’s the clue?”

Harry held the golden egg in his arms. “Do you want me to open it?”

“Yeah!” the entire room shouted. Harry grinned and twisted the egg open. Loud, horrific shrieking emerged from the egg, and Harry quickly closed it. 

“What the bloody hell was that?” Ron questioned, thoroughly startled. Everyone’s gaze shifted to him and then to Harry. George cleared his throat. 

“Alright, everybody. Go away. This’ll be awkward enough.”

Ron approached Harry. “I reckon you’d have to be barking mad to put your name in the Goblet of Fire.”

“Took you long enough,” Harry replied.

“At least I warned you about the dragons.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “Hagrid told me about the dragons.”

Ron shook his head. “No, no—I did. Don’t you remember? I told Hermione to tell you that Seamus told me that Parvati told Dean that Hagrid was looking for you. Seamus never told me anything, so it was really me all along. I thought you’d be alright after you figured all that out.”

“Who could possibly figure that out?” Harry questioned with a hint of a smile on his face. “That’s completely mental.”

“It is, isn’t it? Anyway, I shouldn’t have—”

“Forget it,” Harry smiled. 

“Alright.”

Hermione burst into tears, surprising all three of us. 

“Why are you crying?” I asked, completely bewildered. 

“They’re so stupid!” she cried, pulling us all into a hug. 

“Tell me about it,” I teased. “Hey Ron, I’m sorry for ignoring you—”

“No, I’m sorry,” he interrupted, worming his way out of Hermione’s tight grasp. “You were only defending Harry.”

I grinned. “God, I missed you. Dad sent this new chess book, and I’ve wanted to show you for ages—”

“Want a jam tart, Hermione?” Fred asked, approaching us with a plate of tarts. Hermione eyed the plate suspiciously. 

“It’s alright,” Fred insisted. “We haven’t done anything to these.” 

Hermione looked at me for confirmation. “He’s right. It’s the custard creams that we bewitched.”

Neville spit out his custard cream. Fred laughed.

“She’s kidding, Neville,” he lied. I raised an eyebrow at him, and he put a finger to his lips. 

Hermione took a jam tart. “Did you get all this from the kitchens?”

“We did,” Fred grinned. “They’re dead helpful. They’d give me a roast ox if I wanted one.” 

“How do you get there?” Hermione asked. 

“Easy,” George cut in. “It’s right by that painting of fruit. You just have to tickle the pear. It giggles and then—” he paused. “Why?” 

“No reason.”

“Are you going to try and have them strike or something?” he asked. “Stir up a rebellion?”

Hermione shoved the jam tart into her mouth and didn’t reply. 

“Don’t you go upsetting them and telling them they’ve got to take clothes and salaries,” Fred warned. “You’ll put them off their cooking.”

There was a loud scream, and Neville was suddenly gone. In his place was a large yellow canary. I stifled giggles as the entire common room burst into laughter. 

“Canary Creams!” Fred announced to the crowd. “Invented by yours truly! Seven Sickles each! Contact me, George, or Pepper to purchase!” 

∆ ∆ ∆ 

Because the holidays were approaching quickly, teachers began to pile on more work than ever. I received so much homework from Snape that I thought I would drown in it. 

Snape never mentioned our altercation in Potions again. Much to my surprise, he didn’t give me detention or even any snarky comments in class. In fact, it was more like he was avoiding me, speaking to me only when absolutely necessary. But this was kind of a win for me, so instead of causing problems, I just didn’t speak to him either. 

After a particularly rough Divination class—Trelawney was annoyed at Harry and Ron’s constant laughter and spent the entire lesson reprimanding them—the three of us walked back to the common room. Malfoy was still upset that Harry had survived the first task, and was now adamant that he would not survive the second one. His statements were amusing to me, and I often had to restrain myself from laughing in his face. 

“Where’s Hermione?” Ron questioned. “She usually—”

“Harry!” she shouted behind us. “Harry!” 

“What? What is it?”

“You’ve got to come—the most amazing thing happened!” She grabbed Harry’s arm and started to drag him away. Ron and I quickly followed. 

“What’s going on, Hermione?”

“I’ll show you when we get there, Pepper! Harry, hurry up!” She led us down to the basement, close to the Hufflepuff common room where Fred, George, and I had run into Cedric. But instead of turning there, Hermione led us down a small stone staircase and we found ourselves in a broad, brightly lit corridor with cheerful paintings. 

“Wait a minute,” I said, looking at a picture of an apple. “Hermione!” 

“What?”

I pointed to the painting. “This is about—”

“Spew!” Ron shouted. “You’re trying to rope us back into spew!” 

“No, no, no!” she sighed. “And it’s not  _ spew— _ ”

“Did you change the name?” Ron demanded. “What are we now then, the House-Elf Liberation Front? I’m not barging into that kitchen and trying to make them stop work!” 

“Hermione,” I began softly. “I understand that you want to help them, but if they’re happy this way—”

“I’m not asking you to help me with that!” she shouted. “For now, at least. I came down here to talk to them all, and I found—oh come on, Harry, I want to show you.”

She grabbed a hold of his arm again and tickled the huge green pear in the painting next to her. The pear let out a shrill giggle and turned into a large green door handle, which Hermione opened hastily. She pushed Harry inside and we followed. 

The kitchens were as big as the Great Hall, and every empty space was filled with shiny brass pots and pans and a large brick fireplace. There were four large tables that greatly resembled the ones in the Great Hall, and they were covered with dirty dishes. 

“Harry Potter, sir!  _ Harry Potter! _ ” Dobby, the Malfoy’s old house elf, ran up to Harry and tackled him into a hug.

“D-Dobby?” Harry wheezed, clearly unable to breathe. 

“It  _ is _ Dobby, sir, it is!” he squealed joyfully. “Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!” 

Dobby finally let go of Harry, and stared at him with his great big tear-filled eyes. He was dressed rather strangely, donning a tea cozy hat, a horseshoe-patterned tie, soccer shorts, and mismatched socks—one black one and one pink-and-orange one. 

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked in amazement. 

“Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!” he chirped. “Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs!” 

“Winky?” I cut in. “Isn’t that the elf they thought cast the Dark Mark?”

Harry nodded. “She’s here too, Dobby?”

“Yes, sir, yes!” He grabbed Harry’s hand and led him to the back of the kitchens. Hermione, Ron, and I followed, watching a plethora of elves bow as Harry passed them. 

Winky sat on a stool by the fire, wearing a skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat. But even though her clothes were relatively normal, they were filthy, coated with dirt, food stains, and burns. 

“Hello, Winky,” Harry greeted. 

Winky’s lip trembled and she burst into tears. 

“Don’t cry, Winky,” Hermione cooed, rushing to the elf. “Please, don’t cry.”

“Would Harry Potter like a cup of tea?” Dobby asked over Winky’s loud sobs. 

“Er—okay,” Harry mumbled. Instantly, six elves appeared with a teapot, cups for all of us, a milk jug, and biscuits. 

“Good service!” Ron exclaimed, taking a biscuit. Hermione frowned at him, but I couldn’t help but notice that the elves looked ecstatic. 

“How long have you been here, Dobby?” I asked curiously, holding a cup of tea. 

“Only—wait a minute, who are you?” 

“Oh, sorry. I’m Pepper Atkinson, Harry’s friend. This is Hermione Granger, and that’s Ron Weasley.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all! Any friends of Harry Potter are friends of mine!” Dobby beamed. “Dobby has been here only a week, Pepper Atkinson. Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, miss. You see, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, Pepper Atkinson, very difficult.”

Winky sobbed again, but Dobby dismissed her wails with a wave of his hand. “Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years trying to find work! But Dobby hasn’t found work because Dobby wants paying now!” 

Every single elf who had been listening looked away, seemingly offended at Dobby’s words.

“Good for you, Dobby!” Hermione encouraged.

“Thank you, miss! But most wizards don’t want a house-elf who wants payment. Dobby likes work, but he wants clothes and to be paid. Dobby likes being free!” 

The house elves frowned and edged away from Dobby like his freedom was a disease. Winky let out another wail. 

“And then, Harry Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed too, sir!” 

Winky threw herself onto the ground and began pounding the floor with her tiny fists. Hermione tried to comfort her, but Winky could not be swayed.

“And then Dobby had the idea, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Dumbledore gave us work! And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!” he rambled happily. 

“That’s barely anything!” Hermione protested from her spot on the floor next to Winky. 

“Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off,” he explained,” but Dobby beat him down, Hermione Granger. Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn’t wanting too much. He likes work better.”

“And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying you, Winky?” Hermione asked kindly.

Winky had stopped crying, but she was now staring at Hermione with such a poisonous glare. “Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!” she roared. “Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!” 

“Ashamed?” Hermione sputtered. “But—Winky, come on! It’s Mr. Crouch who should be ashamed, not you! You didn’t do anything wrong, he was really horrible to you—”

“You is not insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr. Crouch! Mr. Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr. Crouch is right to sack Winky!”

“Winky is having trouble adjusting, Harry Potter,” Dobby explained. “Winky forgets she is not bound to Mr. Crouch anymore; she is allowed to speak her mind now, but she won’t do it.”

“House eleves can’t talk about their masters?” I questioned, nibbling on a biscuit. 

“Oh, no, Pepper Atkinson, no,” Dobby began. “It is part of the enslavement. We keeps their secrets and our silence, miss. We uphold the family honor and never speak ill of them—though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said we is free to—”

He motioned for us to lean in. “He said we is free to call him a barmy old codger if we likes!” He giggled nervously. “But Dobby is not wanting to, Harry Potter. Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, sir, and is proud to keep his secrets and our silence for him.”

“But you can say what you like about the Malfoys now?” Harry inquired. 

A look of fear crossed Dobby’s face. “Dobby could,” he said quietly. “Dobby could tell Harry Potter that his old masters were—were— _ bad Dark wizards! _ ”

Dobby paused and began to bang his head on the nearest table.  _ “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!”  _

Harry yanked Dobby away from the table. 

“Thank you, Harry Potter, thank you,” he praised.

“You just need a bit of practice, Dobby,” Harry said.

“Practice!” Winky exclaimed indignantly. “You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way about your masters!” 

“They isn’t my masters anymore, Winky!” Dobby retaliated. “Dobby doesn’t care what they think anymore!” 

“It’s the Malfoys,” I grumbled. “Who cares what any of them think? They’re all pricks.”

“Actually—”

“Dobby is a bad elf!” Winky cried, interrupting Dobby. “He is a bad elf! Imagine what his masters are doing without Dobby! My poor Mr. Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me, he is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her… oh what is they saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh the shame, the shame!” She blew her nose into her skirt. 

“Winky,” Hermione began, “I’m quite sure Mr. Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you. We’ve seen him, you know—”

“You is seeing my master?” she asked. “Here at Hogwarts?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “He’s one of the judges for the Triwizard Tournament. Him and Ludo Bagman.”

“Mr. Bagman comes too?” she squeaked. Her tiny face twisted with anger. “Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard! My master isn’t liking him at all!” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Bagman—bad?” 

“Oh yes,” Winky confirmed. “My master is telling Winky some things! But Winky is nit saying! Winky keeps her master’s secrets!” After this statement, she started crying again. “Poor master, poor master, no Winky to help him anymore!” 

Winky was inconsolable, and we couldn’t get another word out of her. We left her to her crying and finished our tea while Dobby told us all about his new life as a free elf and his plans for his wages.

“Dobby is going to buy a sweater next!” he exclaimed, pointing at his bare chest.

“Tell you what, Dobby,” Ron began. He seemed to get along very well with Dobby. “I’ll give you the one my mum knits me this Christmas, I always get one from her. You don’t mind maroon, do you?”

“I love maroon!” 

“We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you,” he continued, “but it’ll go well with your tea cozy.”

As we left, many of the elves offered us snacks to take upstairs. Hermione refused to take any, but Harry, Ron, and I loaded our pockets with cookies and pies. 

“See you, Dobby!” Harry shouted. Dobby ran up to him. 

“Harry Potter, can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir?”

“Of course you can,” Harry replied. Dobby beamed. 

“Thank you, sir! Goodbye, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, and Pepper Atkinson! Goodbye!” 

“Bye, Dobby!” I called out. “And you don’t have to call me by my whole name. You can just call me Pepper.”

“Wait a minute!” he cried. “Dobby knows you!” 

“You do?” 

“Yes—but Dobby doesn’t remember from where. Dobby has heard your name somewhere…”

“Pepper’s one of my best friends,” Harry cut in. “You probably just heard it from that.” 

Dobby nodded slowly. “Probably.” 

“You know what?” Ron began once we had left the kitchens. “All these years I’ve been impressed with Fred and George, nicking food from the kitchens—well, it’s not exactly difficult, is it? They can’t wait to give it away!”

“I think this is the best thing that could have happened to those elves, you know,” Hermione interjected. “Dobby coming to work here, I mean. The other elves will see how happy he is, being free, and slowly it’ll dawn on them that they want that too!”

“Hermione, they’re happy the way they are,” I remarked. “If they want anything, all they have to do is ask Dumbledore.”

“They’re happy because they don’t know what it’s like to be free,” she maintained. “I’ll work on it, you’ll see. “

“Let’s just hope they don’t look too closely at Winky,” Harry joked. 

“Oh she’ll cheer up,” Hermione replied somewhat doubtfully. “Once the shock wears off, and she gets used to Hogwarts, she’ll see how much better off she is without Mr. Crouch.”

“She seems to love him,” Ron inputted with a mouthful of pie. 

Harry nodded. “But she doesn’t seem to think much of Bagman, though. Wonder what Crouch says at home about him?”

“Probably that he’s not a very good Head of Department,” said Hermione, “and let’s face it—he’s got a point, hasn’t he?”

“I’d still rather work for him than old Crouch,” said Ron. “At least Bagman’s got a sense of humor.”

Don’t let Percy hear you saying that,” Hermione said, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, well, Percy wouldn’t want to work for anyone with a sense of humor, would he?” Ron challenged. “Percy wouldn’t recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby’s tea cozy.”

I bit into a chocolate chip cookie. “Ron’s right. Percy has a perpetual stick up his—”

“Pepper!” Hermione scolded while Harry and Ron chortled. 

“Sorry, sorry. But you know I’m right.”


	37. Froly

_ Oh, I’ve been dazed and confused, from the day I met you _

“I don’t believe it!” Hermione hissed, throwing a copy of the Daily Prophet onto the breakfast table. 

“What?” I asked through a mouthful of bacon. 

“Read it!” 

I picked up the newspaper and scanned it. 

_ Miss Hermione Granger, a plain but ambitious Muggle-born witch, was rumored to be having a fling with Harry Potter earlier this month. But, it seems that Miss Granger has shifted her attention elsewhere. The latest sources say that she has moved on from Harry to Bulgarian bon-bon Viktor Krum. She seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards!  _

_ But it seems that Harry has other options. That same source reports that one Pepper Atkinson was spotted being rather territorial with Harry when Miss Granger attempted to wish him good luck. Miss Atkinson is also a Muggle-born, and seems to be rather infatuated with Harry Potter. Their relationship has not been officially confirmed, but it seems that we won’t have to wait much longer! _

“Rubbish!” I exclaimed, tossing it aside. “All I said was that they weren’t dating!” 

“She  _ loves _ to twist your words,” Harry grumbled scathingly. “I didn’t even say a word about my parents, and she marked me as a teary orphan.”

A small first year boy approached us holding a large box. “Parcel for you, Mr. Weasley.”

Ron beamed. “Ah, thank you, Nigel.”

The boy didn’t leave. Instead, he clutched a leather journal and stared at Harry, who was eating a piece of toast. I poked Ron, who let out a sigh. 

“Not now, Nigel.”

The boy’s face fell, and he ran off, seemingly in tears. 

“What was that about?” I asked, reaching for a piece of toast. 

“I told him I’d get him Harry’s autograph,” Ron explained, grabbing his package. “Mum sent me something!”

He eagerly opened the box, but froze once he saw its contents. Horrified, he pulled out a thick bundle of what looked like maroon rags with lace. 

“Mum sent me a dress?” 

Harry snorted. “It matches your eyes, Ron. Does it have a bonnet?”

I pressed my lips together in an attempt to stop laughing. Ron rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Harry.” He walked over to Ginny, who was deep in conversation with the twins. “Ginny, these must be for you.”

“I’m not wearing that,” she stated. “It’s ghastly.”

Hermione let out a high-pitched giggle. Everybody turned to her. 

“What?” Ron asked. 

“Those aren’t for Ginny—they’re for you!”

“How—”

“Dress robes,” she continued. “Those are dress robes.”

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I laughed along with the rest of the table while Ron looked confused. 

“Dress robes? For what?”

“The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament since its inception,” McGonagall explained. Every single Hogwarts student from fourth year and up was gathered in the Great Hall for the announcement of the Yule Ball. I sat next to Hermione on the girls’ side while Harry, Ron, and the twins sat together on the opposite side of the room. 

“On Christmas night, we and our guests gather in the Great Hall for well-mannered frivolity. As representatives of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward—and I mean this literally because the Yule Ball is first and foremost, a dance.”

Chatter erupted from both sides of the room. The girls around me immediately started talking about dresses, makeup, and dates. The boys were significantly less excited—in fact, some of them seemed to be dreading it. 

“Silence!” Snape barked. “Hogwarts has commanded the respect of the wizarding world for nearly ten centuries. I will not have you besmirching that name by behaving poorly.”

“Now, you all need to learn to dance,” McGonagall continued. “To dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers longing to burst forth and take flight.”

I stifled a snicker. 

“And inside every boy, a lordly lion prepared to prance.” Ron laughed loudly from the opposite side of the room. “Mr. Weasley, will you join me?”

Ron paled.  _ “Me?” _

“Yes, you.”

Ron stood up and walked to the middle of the room. 

“Now, place your right hand on my waist,” she instructed.

Ron’s eyes bugged out of his head. “Where?”

“My waist.”

Ron practically shook as he placed his hand on McGonagall’s waist. 

“Mr. Filch, if you please.” Mr. Filch put a record on the turntable, and the music began. Ron looked ready to die as they began dancing. 

Hermione and I tried our best to control our laughter as Ron trudged along with McGonagall, who danced with practiced ease. 

“Everybody pair up and practice,” McGonagall ordered, still dancing with Ron, who was now as red as his hair. 

The girls immediately jumped to their feet while the boys stayed glued to their seats. Neville was the first to stand, confidently walking over to Hannah Abbott, who accepted his invitation. 

“Pepper!” I turned to see Fred waving at me. I walked towards him and bowed deeply. 

“May I have this dance?” 

I rolled my eyes but grinned. “You may.”

Fred quickly grabbed my waist and spun me around extravagantly. “Do you know how to dance, Paprika?” 

I tried to place an arm on his shoulder. “Barely. You’re going to have to bend down a little bit, Fred. You’re too tall.” 

Fred grinned. “Maybe you’re just too short.” 

“I am not short!” I protested. “You and George are just abnormally tall.” 

“She’s right,” George called from where he and Alicia Spinnet danced. 

“So who are you asking to the ball?” I asked. 

“I have an idea,” he mumbled, turning a light shade of pink.

“Is  _ the _ Fred Weasley blushing?” I teased. “Who is it?” 

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“But I’m one of your closest friends, Fred,” I whined. “Tell me.”

“Patience, Paprika. You’ll find out when the rest of the world does.”

“Does George know?” 

“Probably. Anyway, enough about me. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you have your eyes on anyone.” 

“Not at the moment, no.”

“Are you sure?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “My sources say otherwise.”

“What sources?” 

“That’s another secret.”

“Well your source is wrong,” I stated. “I don’t have my eyes on anybody right now.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Very.”

“Because Myrtle’s pretty sure that Malfoy has a thing for you.” 

I looked in his direction. Malfoy was dancing with Pansy Parkinson towards the back of the Great Hall. Pansy was clearly ecstatic to be dancing with Malfoy, clutching his hand so tightly that it seemed to be cutting off his circulation. Malfoy on the other hand, could not look more disturbed. His hand hovered over her waist, and he wore a look of genuine distaste. But even with his uncomfort, he danced gracefully—almost like it was second nature for him. 

“Stop drooling, Pepper.” 

“Very funny,” I grumbled. “I was just looking at how he dances. He’s actually good.”

Fred turned his head. “Oh yeah. Bet it’s because of all those parties his family throws.”

“What like balls and galas?”

“Exactly like that. I swear his mother throws one every time she breathes.” 

I let out a snort. “I don’t even know her, but it sounds exactly like something she would do.”

“So who are you going to go with?”

I shrugged. “Whoever asks me, I s’pose. Within reason, of course.”

“So that’s a no to Malfoy?” 

I looked back towards Malfoy, who was now staring straight at me with an unreadable look on his face. I felt the blood rise to my cheeks and quickly looked away. 

“That’s a definite no.” 

∆ ∆ ∆

The Yule Ball was all anybody could talk about. Parvati, Lavender, and Faye Dunbar talked about it all the time, reminding Hermione and I that we needed to buy formal dresses and get dates. I noticed that a lot of girls started putting more effort into their appearances too, wearing shorter skirts and more makeup. Hermione was thoroughly disgruntled by this, grumbling that it was pointless. 

But it worked. Loads of girls were asked by students from Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts. Faye Dunbar nearly fainted when a Beauxbatons boy presented her with a large bouquet of flowers, and Lavender would not stop squealing when Ernie Macmillan asked her. Hermione and I remained single for the time being, with nobody asking us. It didn’t really bother me though. I knew I would have a good time—date or not. Harry and Ron weren’t having much luck either. Harry was too scared to ask Cho Chang out—even though I encouraged him to—and Ron just had no idea who to ask. He and Hermione had gotten into a bit of a squabble after he said he’d rather go with a pretty but rude girl than a plain but kind one. 

After pushing past a shrieking girl who had been asked by a Durmstrang boy, I arrived at Charms and took my assigned seat next to Theo, who was mindlessly scribbling on a piece of parchment. 

“Hey, Theo,” I greeted. I took my usual seat next to Theo, who was once again scrawling on a piece of parchment. As I got closer, I noticed that he was drawing—and not just any pictures. Beautiful sketches of birds, plants, flowers, trees—anything nature-related. I was taken aback by the exquisite detail, each sketch looking exactly as it would in reality. 

“Wow,” I gasped. “Theo, those are amazing!” 

He looked up and flushed a light shade of pink. “Oh—er, thanks.”

“I didn’t know you liked to draw.”

He nodded. “It’s a Nott family tradition to be involved in some sort of art form. My father plays five instruments, my grandfather was a dancer, and my great-great grandfather was a writer.” 

“That’s really cool. And you’re very talented,” I complimented. 

“Which one do you like best?” he asked. “I’m trying to decide which to paint as a Christmas gift for my mother.”

He pushed his parchment towards me and I scanned each drawing. He had more birds than anything, and while they were pretty, there was just something special about his flowers. Each carefully placed stroke made each petal seem silky, like the paper would be soft to the touch if I had it in my hands. And the petals combined to make one beautiful flower, rivaling those I had seen in nature. 

I pointed to a bundle of carnations held together by a ribbon. “That one.”

“The carnations? What color? Red?” 

“No, not red—it’s too overused. What about yellow?” I suggested. “It’s bright, cheerful, and it’ll be unique.” 

“Yellow—thanks.” He quickly wrote it down and then looked up. “How are you?”

“Annoyed,” I groaned. “I was almost late because this one couple was taking up the entire corridor.”

Theo sighed and ran a hand through his curly brown hair. “Tell me about it. These two guys made me late for Ancient Runes because their fireworks went awry.”

“It’s stupid. I don’t even understand what the big deal is. Just ask and move on.”

He nodded. “Yeah. So, who are you going with?”

“Nobody yet,” I replied, pulling my textbook out of my bag. 

“Nobody’s asked you?”

“Nope.”

“I’m surprised.” 

“Why?” 

“Well—I—because—you’re so popular,” he babbled. 

“Am I?” I paused. “Well, I guess so. Because of Harry.”

“Yeah. So look, I was wondering—”

“Atkinson!” 

I groaned and turned around to see Malfoy slinking into his usual spot two seats behind me, an arrogant smirk plastered onto his face.

“Malfoy.”

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“I happen to go to school here,” I remarked. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I was talking to Theo.”

“But you’re talking to me now,” he said before I could turn around. I let out an angry huff. 

“I’m not really in the mood, Malfoy.”

He cocked an eyebrow up. “But you’re in the mood sometimes?” 

“ _ No. _ Now go away.”

“Go where? I’m in this class too.” 

I ignored him and turned back to Theo. “So what were you—”

“I just think it’s funny,” Malfoy interrupted. “That you don’t want to talk to me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I thought you and I were best friends, Peppermint.”

“We are not friends,” I stated. “Just because we have civil conversations sometimes doesn’t make us best gal pals.”

“But—”

“And not to mention that you will blalanty insult my blood status,” I continued. “ _ We are not friends.” _

“I am so sorry about that, Theo,” I apologized. “What were you saying?” 

He shook his head. “I’ll tell you about it later. When there’s less—er—distractions.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. Besides, the lesson will be starting soon.”

“Okay. After class?” 

He nodded eagerly. “Okay!” 

Flitwick walked in and began his lecture on Locking Spells then. No more than five minutes into the lesson, I felt a wad of parchment hit my back. I picked it up and unraveled it to find Malfoy’s neat cursive inside. 

_ Didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, huh? _

I made a show of crumbling the paper and shoving it into my bag. Thirty seconds later, another paper hit me. 

_ I sent you a note—aren’t you going to respond? _

I ignored his note again and continued to take notes on Flitwick’s lecture. Several notes hit me again, but I didn’t even bother picking them up on the floor. 

I felt a sharp tap on my shoulder and turned to see Faye holding up a piece of parchment. “This is for you.”

“From who?”

“Just open it, please,” she sighed. “He won’t leave me alone.” 

“You’re not the only one,” I grumbled, begrudgingly taking the note from her hand. I opened it and found Malfoy’s handwriting once again.

_ I’m talking to you, Atkinson. It’s rude not to reply. Didn’t your Muggle mother teach you that? Or are Muggles incapable of that too? _

I immediately stood up, dropping the note onto the floor. 

“Miss Atkinson, is everything alright?” Flitwick asked, stopping mid-sentence. I didn’t answer as I stalked over to where Malfoy sat, his face wearing the same stupid smile it always did. 

His smile faded as I got closer. “What—” 

I punched him in the face as hard as I could. He let out a yelp of pain and fell to the floor, clutching his nose. I yanked him by the collar and raised my fist again. “Mention my mother one more time, I dare you!” I shrieked. 

“Are you insane—?”

“How dare you? You stupid piece of shit! She was my  _ mother _ and she was  _ murdered! _ I ought to hit you again—!” 

“Someone restrain her!” Flitwick cried. “Somebody!” 

Ron, Hermione, and Harry ran up to me and pulled me away from Malfoy by the arms. 

“Let me go!” I cried. “Let me go!” 

“And someone take Mr. Malfoy to the infirmary, please.” 

Harry, Hermione, Ron dragged me out of the Charms classroom. 

“Pepper, what was that?” Hermione shrieked. “You attacked him!” 

“He was bothering me! He… he talked about my mother—he insulted her!” 

“You can’t just attack him!” 

“Pepper’s right, Hermione,” Ron defended. “He gets away with too much! It’s about time that somebody put him in his place!” 

“Harry, what do you think?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I—uh—well—”

The door to the classroom opened, and Flitwick walked out with Pansy Parkinson and Malfoy, whose nose was crooked and caked in blood. 

“Can somebody please explain this to me?” Flitwick demanded. “What just happened?” 

“She just hit me!” Malfoy cried. “She just walked up to me and punched me.” 

“That’s not true!” I exclaimed. “He provoked me!” 

“Liar!” 

“I have proof! He wrote me notes—loads of them. They’re still in the room.”

“Miss Granger, go look for them,” Flitwick instructed. Hermione nodded dutifully and ran back into the classroom. 

“Provoked or not, I cannot condone violence in my classroom,” Flitwick continued. 

“But—”

“Here,” Hermione panted, holding up various crumpled notes. “They were all underneath her desk.”

Flitwick skimmed the notes. “This is your handwriting, Mr. Malfoy. I’m afraid you will have to be punished for this.”

“But Professor!” Pansy whined shrilly. “ _ She _ attacked  _ him! _ ”

“I understand that, Miss Parkinson. She will be punished. Now please take Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing. We will discuss his punishment later.”

Pansy gave me a nasty glare as she dragged Malfoy away. Malfoy refused to look at me as he clutched his bloody nose. 

“Miss Atkinson, I’m afraid I have to give you detention,” Flitwick sighed. “I understand that Mr. Malfoy provoked you, but you did resort to extreme measures. I hope you understand.”

I nodded. “I do, sir.”

“You will report to my classroom tonight after dinner. We’ll discuss your punishment then.”

“Okay, sir.”

“Now, let’s all go back to class and relax. Is your hand okay?”

I inspected my knuckles, which were bright red. “They hurt a little bit, but I can go get them checked out later.”

“No,” Flitwick said. “Go now. Mr. Weasley, go with her and don’t let her anywhere near Mr. Malfoy. You two are excused for the rest of the lesson.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You two best be going now. Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, go back in please.” Ron and I started to walk away. “Oh, and Miss Atkinson?”

“Yes, sir?”

“That was one hell of a punch.”

I grinned. “Thank you, Professor.”

I didn’t see Malfoy at the infirmary since Madam Pomfrey had enough common sense to keep us separated. She was able to quickly heal my knuckles, and Ron and I spent the rest of our free period playing chess in the Gryffindor common room. As I had suspected, he loved my new book, and we poured over the new strategies together, testing them out on his board. 

“This is bloody brilliant!” he exclaimed as he won for the third time in a row. “Just wait until I go home. Percy’s going to be livid!”

After Charms ended, so did the school day. Hermione needed to go to the library, and I decided to go with her. Harry and Ron decided to stay behind, so we left them in the common room and found a comfortable spot in the library. 

The library was eerily quiet today. There were barely any students (it was Friday, after all), and the few that were here migrated towards the back. Even Viktor Krum and his usual fan base was gone. 

“Finally, some quiet,” Hermione murmured to herself. “I’m getting so sick of those ridiculous girls.”

I nodded and cracked open a book on Quidditch strategies. I was so engrossed in my book that I didn’t even notice the figure in front of me until he cleared his throat. 

“Excuse me.”

My jaw dropped. It was  _ Viktor Krum.  _ Viktor Krum was at our table, talking to us! I was starstruck for a moment before I came to my senses. 

“Yes?” Hermione and I said at the same time. 

“I would like to speak to you,” he said to Hermione. He had a thick Bulgarian accent and a deep, scratchy voice. Hermione looked confused. “Me?”

“Yes, please.”

“Go on.” I nudged Hermione gently. “I’ll wait here.”

“Oh—uh—okay.” She stood up and followed Krum to a different, secluded table. I waited as patiently as I could. What did Krum want with Hermione? 

Hermione returned moments later, her face a bright shade of pink. 

“What did he say?” I asked. “What happened?”

“Oh—nothing—”

“Hermione, you’re practically red. What happened?”

She smiled a small smile. “He just asked me to go to the Yule Ball with me.”

I gasped. “Really? You’re joking!”

“No.”

“What did you say?”

“I said yes. I mean, I have no reason to, right?”

“Of course not! Hermione, this is great! I’m so happy for you! Did he say anything else?”

She nodded. “You know how he’s been in the library every day?” 

“Yeah.”

“Well apparently, he’s been plucking up the courage to come and talk to me,” she whispered excitedly. “To me! Can you believe it?”

“This is great!” I exclaimed. 

“Could you just do me a favor?” 

“Of course—anything.”

“Don’t tell anyone. And I mean anyone. Not Harry, and not Ron.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“Well, you know how they get. Besides, I kind of want to keep it a secret for now.”

I stuck out my pinky finger and looped it around hers. “I pinky promise.”

“Now we just need to find you a date,” she remarked. 

“We’ll see about that.”

Hermione was uncharacteristically giggly for the remainder of the time we spent in the library. 

Later that evening, I reported to Flitwick’s classroom for my detention. 

“Professor Flitwick?”

“Oh hello, Miss Atkinson,” he greeted, climbing down a stack of books. “How’s your hand?”

“Fine, thank you.”

He handed me a slip of paper. “Here you go. You will be assisting Professor Snape next week.”

I groaned. “Snape? Why Snape?” 

“His fifth years start brewing Erumpent Potions, and those always require vigorous cleanup.”

“Can’t I do it with anybody else?” I pleaded. “Anybody? I’ll even help Filch!” 

Flitwick shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Atkinson, but this final.”

∆ ∆ ∆

The news that I punched Draco Malfoy for the second time quickly spread around the school. There wasn’t any concrete evidence since Madam Pomfrey was able to fix his nose, but people who had been in the class—most notably Lavender and Parvati—spread the news fast. It wasn’t always accurate, though. Some people claimed that I broke his nose (true), while others claimed that I had broken his entire jaw (false). Pansy Parkinson maintained that I had nearly killed him, but nobody really believed her. 

Malfoy avoided me like a disease. He didn’t speak to me at all, turned the other way whenever we crossed paths, and sat as far away from me as he could in Divination. 

As the days passed, I realized that I wasn’t that angry with him anymore. At first, I found his lack of company to be rather comforting—for once we weren’t constantly bickering—but I also found it unnerving. It felt strange not to argue with him or to make fun of Trelawney together. 

I didn’t understand why I wasn’t mad at him anymore. I mean, he had insulted my mother, and he did deserve that punch, but I just wasn’t angry anymore. After nearly a week of not speaking to him, I realized that I missed his presence. But why I missed him, I didn’t know. I mean, it was  _ Malfoy _ . 

On a different note, the Yule Ball chatter was at an all-time high. Nearly everyone was bursting at the seams for the event, talking about who was rumored to perform. However, this excitement was not for everyone. Harry and Ron still hadn’t found dates, and they were starting to grow uneasy.

“ This is mad!” Ron groaned during a study period with Snape. My detention with him was later tonight, and I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. “At this rate we'll be the only ones in our year without dates.” Snape heard Ron and smacked his head with a piece of parchment. 

“Well, us and Neville!” Ron added, rubbing his head.

“But then again, he can take himself,” Harry remarked. 

“It might interest you to know that Neville's already got someone,” Hermione informed them.

“You’re lying,” Ron gasped. “Pepper? You wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Nope, Hermione’s right,” I confirmed. “Neville’s got a date.” 

“Who? Who in their right mind would say yes to Neville?” 

“Ginny.”

“ _ Ginny? _ Why would Ginny say yes to him?”

“Because she’s only a third year,” Hermione answered. “And because Neville’s sweet.”

“Ginny could have gone with you, Harry!” Ron exclaimed. “Now I'm really depressed.” 

“Psst!”

The four of us looked up to see Fred and George. 

“What?” 

Fred threw a piece of parchment towards Ron. 

“Get a move on or all the good ones will have one,” he read aloud. “Who are you going with then?”

Fred threw a wad of paper at Angelina Johnson. George and I exchanged amused glances. So this was who Fred liked. “Oi! Angelina!”

“What?” 

“Wanna go to the ball with me?”

Angelina grinned. “Yeah, sure.”

“There you go,” Fred effused. “Piece of cake.”

“George doesn’t have a date,” Ron pointed out. “So maybe it’s not as easy as you say it is.”

“Pepper, do you have a date?” George asked. 

“No.”

“Do you wanna go with me? As friends, of course.”

“You know what, why not?” I agreed. “You and I will have more fun together than me and some random boy.”

“You didn’t have a date?” Ron exclaimed. “You have to be joking!”

“I would have told you if I did,” I shrugged. “Why do you care anyways?”

“You could have gone with one of us!” 

“I would have—if you had asked.”

Ron let out a sigh. He froze, and then slowly turned to Hermione. “Well Hermione, you’re a girl…”

“Oh, well spotted,” she said acidly. 

“Come on,” Ron coaxed. “It's one thing for a bloke to show up alone—for a girl it's just sad.”

“Ron,” I hissed. “You—”

“I won't be going alone because believe it or not, someone's asked me!” She jumped up and handed her notebook to Professor Snape. She yanked her bag off the table. “And I said yes.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron murmured. “And she didn’t even tell who it was. I bet nobody even asked her!”

“Someone did ask her,” I cut in, scribbling the last few words of my assignment. 

“You know who it is, don’t you? Tell me!” Ron pressed. “Who is it?”

I shook my head. “I can’t tell you—it’s her business.”

“Oh come on, Pepper—”

“I promised Hermione I wouldn’t tell,” I interrupted. “And I’m not going to.”

Ron frowned and turned back to Harry, whispering intently. 

“Paprika,” George called. “What color dress are you going to wear? I want to make sure we don’t clash.”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I haven’t gotten a dress yet.”

George grinned. “Well let me know. The last thing I need is for you to wear yellow and I wear brown.”

“I can assure you that I won’t be wearing a yellow dress,” I giggled. “But I’ll let you know.”

“This is going to be great,” he sighed, tossing his head back. “I can already tell.”

∆ ∆ ∆

After dinner, I reported to Snape’s classroom.

“Professor Snape?”

“Oh, it’s you,” he drawled. “Come in.”

I walked in and was surprised to see Adrian Pucey standing at the only clean table. He looked up from his cauldron and grinned. 

“Hey, Pep—”

“Back to work, Pucey!” Snape barked. Adrian suppressed a smile and continued to add powdered moonstone to his potion. 

“You will be cleaning these tables,” Snape instructed me. “Without magic.”

“That’s what I thought,” I mumbled. 

He ignored me and handed me a pair of gloves. “Be careful. If the residue gets on your skin, it can be disastrous.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How disastrous?”

“Let’s just say that you wouldn’t have the pleasure of attending my class for a long time.”

“What a tragedy that would be,” I grumbled. 

“I’m not in the mood for your attitude, Atkinson. Just clean the tables.”

Resisting the urge to talk back, I put on the gloves, grabbed some towels, and started to wipe the desks. The residue on them was sticky and seemed to be stuck to the tables. No matter how hard I scrubbed, it did not want to budge. After ten minutes of intense scrubbing, it finally started to peel. I groaned. At this rate, it would take at least a half hour to clean this table, and I still have nine more left. How he expected me to do this, I had no idea. 

Snape relished in my labor. I was positive that I was doing something wrong, and instead of correcting me, he just watched me struggle. 

After the first hour passed, Snape stood up. “I need to run some errands,” he informed Adrian and I. “Pucey, watch over her, will you? Surely as Slytherin prefect, I can trust you not to help her, correct?”

Adrian nodded. “Of course, Professor. I won’t help her. I need to finish my Amortentia anyway.” 

Snape said no more and left the room. As soon as the door shut, Adrian dropped his ladle. 

“Need help?”

“Yes, please,” I sighed. “These are impossible to get off.”

“You just need to use a little bit of water,” he advised, quickly conjuring a water goblet. He poured some water onto the stains, grabbed the rag, and wiped the potion off in one quick motion. “See?”

“You’re a lifesaver,” I chirped. 

“It’s no problem. Can I just ask—why are you here? What did you do?”

“You may have heard that Malfoy and I had an altercation—”

“I heard you beat the living shit out of him, if that’s what you mean,” he laughed. 

I coughed. “Well that’s what got me a detention. I also pissed Snape off earlier, so that’s probably why I got this lovely job.” I poured some water onto a different puddle. “Why are you here?”

“I got into an argument with Marcus Flint before class today, and he gave me a concussion,” he explained, grabbing an extra rag and helping me. “I spent the class period in the infirmary and missed brewing Amortentia. Snape made me stay late to brew it.”

“Amortentia? What’s that?”

He grinned. “I forget that you’re so young sometimes. Come look.”

I walked over to his table and peeked into his cauldron. A bright pink potion was inside, and it was bubbling violently. 

“Oh shit,” he muttered, turning the heat down. “Almost forgot the pearl dust.” He dropped a handful of shimmery powder into the cauldron and stirred it. 

“Amortentia is a love potion,” he explained. “It’s actually the strongest love potion ever.”

“Really? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Very,” he replied. “Amortentia’s also special because once properly brewed, it gives off a distinct smell.”

“What kind of smell?” I asked, sniffing the pink liquid. 

“It’s different for each person.”

“Why?”

“Because it smells like whatever attracts you the most.”

I froze. “What?”

He laughed. “Why? Do you recognize the smell?”

I did, in fact, recognize the smell. The potion smelled strongly of broomstick polish, hair gel, peppermint,  _ and pistachios.  _

“Uh, no, I don’t recognize it,” I lied. “What do you smell?”

“Honey, roses, strawberries, hairspray, and wood.” He wrote everything down on a sheet of parchment. 

“Do  _ you  _ know who it is?” I pressed. 

He nodded and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Yup. It’s my date to the Yule Ball—Odette. She’s from Beauxbatons.”

“She smells like wood?”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “No. She’s a ballerina.”

“Ballerinas smell like wood?”

He snorted. “No—they use shoes made out of wood. Pointe shoes.”

“I’m going to pretend like I know what those are,” I chuckled. 

“Look it up in the library,” he remarked. “Anyway, who are you going to the ball with?”

“I’m going with—”

“Wait!” He interrupted. “Let me guess. Is it Potter?”

I shook my head. 

“Weasley?”

“Which one?”

“The little one. Don.”

“ _ Ron _ —and no.” 

“Malfoy?” 

I felt my mouth go dry. “W-what?”

“I’m just joking!” he laughed. “Everybody knows you two don’t get along. Although I will admit, I do get some serious sexual tension from you two.”

“I—er—no!” I stammered. “No! No, I never—”

“Woah, relax,” he said. “Geez, you really do hate him. Who else could it be?”

“It’s—”

“Wait! It’s that Weasley, isn’t it? Fred?”

“Not Fred.”

“George, then.” I nodded. “You’re going with George?”

“About time,” I joked. “Yeah.”

“That makes sense. You two are always pranking people together. He’s a nice guy.”

“He is.”

“How long have you two been going out?”

I laughed. “Oh—it’s not like that. We’re just friends—we’re only going as friends.”

“So you’re still single?”

“Yes.” I paused. “Wait, why do you ask?”

“I may know someone who’s interested…”

“Who?” I pressed. 

“I dunno…”

“Adrian, you have to tell me!” I exclaimed. “You can’t just—”

The door swung open. “What do you think you’re doing, Atkinson? Harassing Pucey?”

“No, I wasn’t—”

“I was only asking her if she could smell anything in the Amortentia,” Adrian lied smoothly. “I wanted to make sure it was brewed correctly.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “And is it?”

I nodded. “It is. I can smell… various scents.”

“Finish cleaning!” he ordered. “And Pucey, you are free to go.”

Adrian grabbed his stuff and walked out the door, shooting me a quick wink. I smiled weakly and continued to scrub the desks. I couldn’t take my mind off the Amortentia, whose aroma was now all over the classroom. I didn’t understand why it was so strong, why it smelled so good, and most importantly, why it smelled like Malfoy. 


	38. Hunter

_ Do you know what you’re doing to me?  _

After detention, I sat in the common room, trying not to panic. Adrian’s Amortentia had to be faulty—I mean, I couldn’t actually be attracted to Malfoy. He was cruel, vile, rude, prejudiced—he was kind one moment only to be rude the next, and he was never nice to anyone. And it was Malfoy for crying out loud. He picked on me and my friends for years, hated Gryffindors, Muggle-borns, Muggles—basically everything about me. Not to mention that if it was true, if I liked him, Hermione, Harry, and Ron would never forgive me. And—

“Hey, Pepper,” Harry sighed, breaking my train of thought. He sadly sunk into an arm chair and looked pensively into the fireplace. 

“Harry? What’s wrong?” 

“I—”

The portrait door swung open and Ron entered the common room with a hoard of girls with him. He was white as a sheet and trembled as he walked to the couch. 

“What happened?” I asked, joining the group. 

“Why did I do it?” Ron babbled. “Why?  _ Why? _ ”

“What did he do?” I repeated. 

“He just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him,” Ginny explained, patting her brother’s arm sympathetically, a hint of a smile on her face. 

I slapped a hand over my mouth. “You’re joking.”

“You  _ what? _ ” Harry exclaimed. 

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, climbing down the stairs. 

“Ron just asked Fleur Delacour out.”

“What?” Hermione gasped. 

“I don’t know what made me do it!” Ron mumbled. “What was I playing at? There were people—all around—I’ve gone mad—everyone was watching! I was walking past her in the entrance hall—she was standing there talking to Diggory—and it just came over me!” He let out a groan and buried his face in his hands. “She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something—didn’t even answer. Then I came to my senses and ran for it.”

“She’s part veela,” Harry explained. “You were right—her grandmother was one. It wasn’t your fault—I bet you just walked past when she was turning the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it.” He let out a sigh and continued. “But she was wasting her time. He’s going with Cho Chang.”

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and I looked up slowly. 

“I asked her to go with me just now,” he sighed. “And she told me.”

“Now we’re dateless,” Ron groaned. 

The portrait opened again, this time letting Lavender and Parvati in. 

“It’s time for drastic action,” Harry mumbled, standing up and rushing towards the girls. He spoke to them for no more than two minutes, then came back.

“Good news, Ron,” he remarked. “We have dates.” 

After Harry and Ron’s date dilemma was solved, we all went to sleep. I tossed and turned, but I couldn’t sleep. My mind kept drifting back to the Amortentia and how it had to be wrong. I couldn’t like Malfoy—I just couldn’t. He was so wrong for me—for everything I stood for. 

After two hours of laying in bed, I decided that enough was enough. I pulled on a jumper and jeans and went downstairs. I walked out of the common room and stepped into the empty corridor. 

It was eerily quiet—not a single Prefect in sight. Every footstep that I took sounded like a stampede of hippogriffs, and I tried my hardest to be quiet as I snuck out of the castle. I half-expected to be caught by a teacher or at the very least Peeves, but nobody stopped me as I walked out of the castle. 

The night air was cool and fresh, the breeze gently blowing through my hair. I walked straight to the Quidditch pitch and grabbed my broom, realizing that a late night fly was exactly what I needed. I stepped out into the field, but to my great surprise, I wasn’t alone. There was a figure flying around, tossing a Quaffle into one of the hoops. 

I turned around to leave, but was promptly spotted by the figure.

“Pepper? Pepper, is that you?”

I stopped walking. “Adrian?”

He dismounted his broom and walked towards me. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” I said coolly. “You’re a Prefect, Adrian. This isn’t the best example to be setting, now is it?”

“No, I s’pose not,” he chuckled. “But what can I say? Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me either,” I sighed. 

“I was just throwing the Quaffle around,” he said. “Do you wanna join me?” 

“As long as I don’t get into trouble.”

“Oh come on, Pepper, you know I wouldn’t report you,” he assured. 

I grinned. “You’re on.”

I played Quidditch with Adrian for three hours. It felt exhilarating to fly again—I had almost forgotten the feeling since Quidditch had been cancelled. Adrian taught me some of his favorite plays, and each goal I scored felt like a weight lifted off my chest. We finally left the pitch once I felt my eyelids drooping. 

Adrian told me all about Odette. Apparently, she was one of Fleur Delacour’s closest friends. She and Adrian had met during a free period in the castle, and they have been happily dating ever since. Adrian was clearly crazy about her—his eyes lit up as he talked about her, and his face was bright red the entire time. 

“So,” I began as we walked back to the castle. “Are you going to tell me who likes me?”

“I can’t,” he sighed. “Sorry.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” I demanded playfully. “You can’t just tell me that you know somebody who fancies me and then not tell me who it is.” 

“Well in my defense, I was under the impression that he was going to tell you about it.”

“He was? Is he not anymore?” 

He shook his head. “Nope. Not after hearing that you have a date to the Yule Ball.”

“But George and I are only going as friends,” I insisted. “Who is it?” 

“Pepper, do you fancy anybody?” he asked. 

“W-what?” 

“Do you fancy anybody?” 

I paused for a moment. Just because I smelled Malfoy in the Amortentia didn’t mean I liked him—right? “I—uh—no.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t sound so sure about that.”

“No,” I said, this time more firmly. “I don’t.” 

“Then I can’t tell you,” he concluded. “I would if he had a chance, but I can’t. He trusted me.”

I dropped my head. “Yeah—I get it. Sorry I was being pushy about it.”

“No, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

There was an awkward pause. 

“So I heard that your friend asked Fleur out,” he remarked. 

I chuckled lightly. “Yeah. Ron asked her to the ball. It was a no.”

“I figured that much,” he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Odette told me that she said yes to Roger Davies.”

“Roger Davies?” I questioned. “From Ravenclaw?”

“That’s the one.”

“Really? He’s kind of a—”

“Douche, yeah,” he finished. “But I mean, Fleur seems to think he’s nice.”

“Is he nice to her?” 

“I guess. When he’s not too busy staring.”

I snorted. “Typical. So I take it you’re rooting for Fleur?” 

“A bit, yeah. But my money’s on Harry.”

“Seriously?” 

He nodded. “Are you kidding? That kid is bloody invincible! He’s escaped death practically every year he’s been here.” 

“True.”

“Actually, so have you and the others. How many more times are you four going to save the school?”

I laughed. “None. Nothing else is going to happen.” 

“You’re right. What next—a manticore in the castle?” 

We arrived at Gryffindor Tower then, and I realized that he had walked all the way in the opposite direction. I cleared my throat. 

“Er—thanks. You didn’t have to walk all that way with me.”

“Yes, I did,” he retaliated. “What if you got caught by a teacher?”

“Always the genius, Adrian.”

“I know I’m amazing,” he teased. “Anyway, I’ll see you around, Pepper.”

I waved. “See you around.”

∆ ∆ ∆ 

The first Hogsmeade visit of the year was the next morning, and Hermione and I planned to buy our Yule Ball dresses. Once we arrived in the village, Harry and Ron went straight to Zonko’s while we headed for Gladrags Wizardwear. 

When we got there, the shop wasn’t too full. There were a handful of girls in there, sifting through the racks of dresses or trying on different colors of high heels. 

“This one’s nice. But it’s kind of… glittery.” Hermione held up a blue gown to her frame that was pretty but had an alarming amount of sequins. 

“The color’s nice, but it looks more like a piñata than a dress.” 

She wrinkled her nose. “It does, doesn’t it?” She sighed as she put the dress back. “I don’t know—they’re all so flashy.”

“Or poofy,” I added, examining a large tulle gown. “I think I’m going to stick to simpler dresses.”

“There’s a rack of plainer ones over there,” a nearby employee told us. We walked to the back of the store, where there were a couple of racks with different colored dresses that were mostly sequin-free. 

“Much better.” I sifted through the racks, looking for something nice. 

“This one?” Hermione held up a pretty purple dress. 

“That one’s nice.”

“Oh—look at this one.” She showed me a blue one. 

“I have an idea,” I said. “Why don’t we pick a bunch of dresses that we like, and we can model them for each other.” 

“Great idea!” Hermione beamed. “I’m going to go check the ones over there.” 

“Okay. I’ll find you when I’m ready.” 

Hermione left and I continued to search the racks, picking a few dresses and putting them on my pile. As I moved to a section with darker colors, I bumped into somebody, causing a hanger to stab my side. 

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” I hissed irritably, rubbing my side. 

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going.” I looked up and saw Malfoy standing in front of me, holding two bright pink boxes. 

“Oh—uh—hey,” I said awkwardly. “I didn’t—uh—see you there.”

“Clearly.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine—just don’t punch me for it.” 

I sucked in a breath. “What are you doing here? Buying a dress for the ball?” 

“Pansy forced me to come,” he answered, tucking the boxes under his arm. 

“Oh—I didn’t know you were going to the ball together.”

“Well, we are. Aren’t you going with one of the Weasleys?” 

“Yeah—George.” 

“So which dress are you buying?” he asked, nodding towards the pile of colored fabric in my hands. 

“Oh, I don’t know yet. I’m still looking for something.”

“You don’t want one with sparkles?” he questioned, lifting a plain purple dress off the pile. “Pansy’s all about the bloody sparkles.”

“No, I prefer something on the plainer side. Sequins and glitter are a bit too flashy for me.”

Malfoy let out a sigh. “This entire thing is just so irritating.” 

“Why?” 

“Pansy makes it seem like it’s the end of the world if she doesn’t find a dress with enough glitter, or if her heels aren’t high enough, or if her necklace doesn’t have enough diamonds. It’s exhausting,” he sighed. “And she keeps asking me how she should do her hair. If she should keep it in a braided updo or a curled updo. It literally looks the same! Every girl there is going to wear her hair up anyways! And does it really matter what I think? She keeps asking me what I want her to wear or what I think about the shoes, and  _ I just don’t care! _ ” 

I blinked, a bit surprised at his outburst. “That sounds tiring.”

“It is! And then she keeps asking me to pick her stuff out—I don’t even know the first thing about makeup! But if I don’t say anything, then I’m being rude! How does that even make  _ sense? _ ” He let out an angry breath and then paused. “And now look at me. I’m ranting about my problems to someone who’s just trying to get their shopping done.”

“You aren’t bothering me,” I murmured. “Besides, you clearly needed to get that off your chest. Better me than her.”

He nodded slowly. “Y-yeah, I s’pose.”

There was an awkward pause. Malfoy then plucked a green dress off a rack. “Here.”

“What for?” I asked. 

“You don’t have a green dress on your pile. You have every other color—well, except for yellow, but who likes yellow anyway?”

“Nobody.”

“Exactly. Anyways, I—uh—I better get going.”

“No, no, yeah, of course. Pansy probably wants those shoes.”

He nodded again. “Oh—um, Atkinson?”

“Yeah?”

“About Charms class the other day—what I did—it was wrong. I shouldn’t have said that.”

I blinked. “Oh—I—okay. Thank you.”

He tipped his head down. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. Divination, and everything.”

“Yeah. Oh—”

“Draco!” a shrill voice shrieked. “Did you find the magenta shoes?” 

Malfoy sighed. “I’ll be there in a minute, Pansy!” 

“You better go before she pokes your eye out with a heel,” I remarked. “Wait, what were you going to say?” 

“Your eyes—they’re hazel again.”

“Well that is their color—”

He scowled. “You know what I mean. Usually, they’re green or brown, not both.” 

I fidgeted with the green dress. “I guess I never really noticed.” 

“They’re prettiest when they’re hazel.”

I looked down, feeling heat spreading throughout my face. “Good to know.”

He said nothing else as he turned around and walked back to the front of the shop. I stood in the aisle for a moment before going to find Hermione.

“Are you done?” I asked, watching her examine a blue gown. 

“Yeah, are you?” 

I nodded. “Yeah. Do you want to go first?” 

“Sure.”

Hermione tried on around ten dresses, and ended up picking a pretty pink one with ruffles down the skirt. 

“That one is perfect,” I gasped as soon as she came out of the fitting room.

“Really? Isn’t a bit too much?”

“No, no, no—it’s great,” I insisted. “You have to get that one.” 

Once it was my turn, I quickly grabbed the green dress that Malfoy had taken. It was sage green with the ugliest bow I had ever seen in my life. I let out a loud laugh as I slipped it on. 

Hermione’s eyes bugged out of her head once I walked out. “Oh—well—it’s—”

“It’s hideous,” I finished. “It’s so ugly.”

“I was going to say eccentric, but yeah, it is. Why did you choose it?”

I laughed. “I didn’t.”

I ended up buying a dark red gown with matching shoes. It wasn’t too extravagant, but its lace sleeves gave it just the right amount of extra flair. Once we had our dresses, we were due to meet up with Harry and Ron at the Three Broomsticks. 

“So what did you get?” Ron asked curiously. 

“Dresses,” Hermione replied. 

“I know but what kind of dress? Can we see it?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Ron whined. “You’ve all seen my dress robes.”

“Everyone saw your dress robes,” I reminded him. “Besides, the ball is in a week. I’m sure you can wait a week.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Well too bad,” Hermione interjected. The two began to argue, so I turned to Harry. 

“Excited for the ball, Hazza?” 

He sighed. “No. You?”

“Actually, I am. I think it’ll be fun. Knowing George, we’ll probably end up pranking people.” 

“At least one of us will have fun,” he mumbled. “You and George and Cho with stupid Cedric Diggory and his stupid smile and—”

“Hello fourth years!” Fred and George slid into our booth, effectively silencing Harry’s rant and the argument between Ron and Hermione. “What are you all up to?” 

“Hermione and Pepper bought their dresses for the ball, but they won’t show us,” Ron explained. 

“Oh, you bought your dress?” George asked me. “What color is it? I still need to get a tie.” 

“Yeah Pepper, what color is it?” Ron pressed. 

I rolled my eyes. “It’s red.”

“Red as in Gryffindor red, ruby red, blood red—?”

“Crimson.” 

George nodded. “Noted.” 

“I still need to get my tie,” Fred cut in. “Angelina told me her dress is purple, but I don’t want to wear a purple tie. I need something that matches, and Mum won’t send me another.” 

“You could always just buy a brown one.”

He frowned. “Brown?”

“Or grey. Depends on the shade of purple. What kind of purple?” 

“Um—purple purple?” 

I sighed. “Do you want me to help you pick one out?” 

“Thank God, yes please. I have no clue what to get.”

“And you can help me too,” George added. “Because I was just going to ask the lady at the store. I don’t know what crimson red looks like, and God forbid I buy scarlet or something.”

“That would be a crime to humanity,” I joked. 

“We’ll go after we finish our butterbeer,” Fred announced, grabbing his drink from the waitress. 

“Just show it to me!” 

“Ron, I said no!” 

“At least tell me who you’re going with!” 

“No, you’re going to laugh—”

“You’re such a Virgo, Hermione!” 

“What does that even _ mean? _ ” 

“What are they arguing about now?” George questioned, watching the two argue. 

“I don’t even know,” Harry remarked. “It’s hard to keep up.”

We watched Hermione and Ron argue for twenty minutes before we left to go tie-shopping. In fact, they were arguing so intently that Harry decided to come with us instead. 

Gladrags was completely packed now, with a long line extending three stores down. But because it was the only clothes store, we were forced to wait in the line. 

“This is ridiculous,” Harry muttered. “What is taking so long?”

I sighed. “You wouldn’t believe how long it takes to find a dress—especially if you want one that doesn’t look like a unicorn threw up on it.”

∆ ∆ ∆

“It’s official,” Harry groaned as we walked up the stairs of the North Tower. “I’m dead meat.” 

“Me too,” Ron agreed. 

I blinked in confusion as we reached a rather noisy portrait of men playing poker. “Why?” 

“Don’t tell me you forgot!” 

“Forgot what?”

“The Astrology exam!”

I stopped walking. “That’s  _ today? _ ”

Harry nodded. “I told you two at Hogsmeade!” 

“You did not!” 

“Yes I did—in Zonko’s.”

“She wasn’t with us at Zonko’s,” Ron gasped before I could tell Harry myself. 

“I was at Gladrags with Hermione, remember?” 

“Oh yeah. Oops.” 

“Oops?  _ Oops? _ What am I going to do now?” I demanded. “If she asks about any signs that aren’t Gemini, Aries, or Sagittarius, I’m screwed.” 

“I think we’re all screwed,” Ron added. “I mean, I’m good at the zodiac signs and all, but once the planets enter the picture, I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

“I only know Leo,” Harry mumbled. “That’s it.” 

I trudged to my seat, knowing that there was no way that I’d pass. There was too much information that I didn’t know, and I wouldn’t be able to make everything up. At least Harry had Ron—they could cheat together. 

“Ready for the test, Atkinson?” Malfoy asked once I was in earshot. 

“I didn’t know we had one today,” I admitted. 

“You’re joking.” 

“No, I—”

“Good morning, children!” Trelawney shouted, effectively interrupting me. “Today, we will wrap up our Astrology unit. It is most unfortunate, yes—but the stars have other things planned for us.” She grabbed a thick stack of paper and began passing it around. “Please begin once you receive the exam, and no talking allowed.” 

I wiped my palms on my cloak as the papers neared me. Was Pisces over emotional, or was that Aquarius? And were Leos the ones to—

“Good luck,” Trelawney drawled. “Not that you’ll need it. The stars tell me that you will earn top marks today.” 

“Er—thanks.” I took the paper, scrawled my name at the top, and read the first question. 

_ List the zodiac signs known most for indecisiveness.  _

I immediately scrawled Gemini and Sagittarius into the first two slots, but I stared at the other twp. I remembered one of the ‘L’ signs being indecisive, but was it Leo or Libra? Or was it the one that started with a T—I couldn’t remember its name. Was it Tauran? Taure? Taur—

I sighed and started to write any signs that I actually remembered. But halfway through writing random names, I noticed that Malfoy’s paper was positioned in a way where I could see all of his answers perfectly. I glanced up and saw Trelawney gazing into a crystal ball, oblivious to what was going on in the class. I looked at his paper out of the corner of my eye, and began to write down what he had. 

Malfoy breezed through the test rather quickly, but I knew that handing it in at the same time as him would give it away, so I waited an extra ten minutes, pretending to be stuck on a question about Capricorns and the moon until I turned it in. 

Most people finished the exam rather quickly, and thankfully, Trelawney let us out early. I headed straight for Harry and Ron, who were talking about one of the exam questions. 

“That wasn’t too bad,” Ron sighed. “I think I aced it.”

“So do I,” Harry agreed. 

“That’s only because you copied off me!” 

“But that means I believe in you and your intelligence,” Harry grinned. 

Ron rolled his eyes. “Anyways, how’d you do Pepper?” 

“Brilliantly,” I effused. “It was a breeze.” 

“But you said you were sure to fail!”

“Trelawney told me that I’d get top marks and for once, I actually believe her prediction.” 

“How?” Harry narrowed his eyes. “Who’d you cheat off of?” 

I smiled mischievously. “Malfoy. He had his paper positioned in just the right way!” 

“Lucky,” Ron whined. “He’s the top of the class!” 

“I guess it was in the stars for me,” I joked as we headed down the stairs. “Where do you want to go? Common room?”

“Drakey!” Pansy Parkinson shrieked, clinging to Malfoy’s arm tightly as they walked. Harry and Ron stopped to watch. 

“I told you—”

“Did you get the necklace?” she demanded. “Did you?”

“Yes, but—”

Pansy pressed her lips to Malfoy’s mouth before he could properly respond. I watched in disgust as she kissed him, and felt ten times more repulsed when he started kissing her back. 

“Come on,” I muttered, fighting the urge to gag. “Let’s go.”

We pushed past them and kept walking towards the castle. As Harry and Ron ranted about how awful Pansy and Malfoy were, I looked back. Malfoy was no longer kissing her. In fact, all he was doing was staring straight at me, like he hadn’t been eating Pansy’s face off thirty seconds ago. 


End file.
